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A REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 




Carpenters' Hall, PhiladelpJtia 



A 

REVOLUTIONARY 

PILGRIMAGE 

Being an Account of a Series of Visits to Battlegrounds 

(f Other Places Made Memorable by the 

War of the Revolution 

Written & Illuftrated by 

Ernest Peixotto 




^&=-i:^ 



NEW YORK 

Printed & Publifhed by 

Charles Scribners Sons 
MDCCCCXVII 



t. Z2o 



Copyright, 1917, by Charles Scribner's Sons 
Published October, 1917 



OCT 17 1917 
©CI.A477061 



TO 
WILLIAM BUNKER 

OF THE STURDY STOCK 

TUAT DEFENDED ITS LIBERTIES IN THE 

WAR OF THE REVOLUTION 

THIS BOOK 

IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED 



PREFACE 

Some years ago I systematically visited the scenes and 
battle-fields connected with the Revolution, undertaking 
a sort of pilgrimage — a series of journeys that covered a 
period of almost fourteen months, my motive being to 
furnish illustrations for Henry Cabot Lodge's "Story of 
the Revolution." 

The only book I could procure to guide me was Los- 
sing's classic "Field-Book of the Revolution," an admi- 
rable work, indeed, but so bulky, so unwieldy, and so 
verbose that it makes rather comphcated reading. Be- 
sides, in many particulars it is now quite out of date. 
Many of the scenes have radically changed since 1850; 
many of the landmarks he describes have disappeared; 
while, on the other hand, much has been done by pa- 
triotic people to mark and make interesting the Revolu- 
tionary battle-grounds since his day. 

While engaged upon this pilgrimage I met many peo- 
ple — local authorities, men of importance, who had made 
special researches into the history of their own particular 
region and were kind enough to give me pamphlets and 
articles that they had written or data that they had col- 
lected — material that seemed to me most interesting. 
So, as there appeared to be no recent book devoted to 

vii 



PREFACE 

the topographical history of the Revolution, I made up 
my mind to write one, but one busy period after another 
has hitherto prevented the accomphshment of that purpose. 
During this past year, however, I have again gone over 
the ground, and to my illustrations that originally ap- 
peared in "The Story of the Revolution" I have added 
a number of others and particularly a number of maps 
which I hope may be of real assistance to the reader in 
following the narrative. 

Now that a new wave of patriotism has swept over the 
land and created a revival of the "American spirit," as 
it is called, the moment seems peculiarly propitious to 
awake anew the story of the deeds of our ancestors — the 
men who risked their lives and staked their all to found 
our nation and make its ideals possible. 

I wish to thank all those who helped me on my wan- 
derings — and they are many — the kind friends and the 
chance acquaintances who made these journeys interest- 
ing and pleasurable and aided so much in giving me an 
opportunity to see things and to unearth documents that 
I should otherwise have surely overlooked. 

E. R 

New York, 1917 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 



INTRODUCTORY 1 

AROUND ROSTON 7 

I. The Reginning 9 

11. Lexington and Concord 17 

III. RuNKER Hill 39 

TICONDEROGA AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN . . 49 

TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 67 

I. Ticonderoga to Fort Edward .... 69 

II. The Green Mountains 76 

III. The Mohawk Valley 87 

IV. Saratoga 101 

DOWN THE HUDSON . ....o ... 115 

AROUT NEW YORK 145 

IN THE JERSEYS 173 

I. Trenton 175 

II. Princeton 191 

III. MORRISTOWN 204 

ix 



CONTENTS 

ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 2T3 

I. Chadd's Ford and the Brandywine . , 215 

11. Germantown 228 

III. Valley Forge 236 

PHILADELPHIA 247 

CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 271 

I. Charleston 273 

II. Through South Carolina 289 

III. Guilford Court House 307 

THROUGH VIRGINIA 315 

I. Williamsburg 317 

II. YORKTOWN 329 

III. Hampton Roads 341 

MOUNT VERNON 345 

WASHINGTON 361 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Carpenters' Hall, Philadelphia Frontis'piece ^ 

PAGE 

The Old North 11 

Lexington Green at the Present Time 19 

Buckman Tavern 20 

The Boulder and Harrington House 21 

Major Pitcairn's Pistols 23 

The Wright Tavern, Concord 25 

Barrett House, near Concord 27 

Concord Bridge 29 

Daniel French's Statue of the " Minuteman " 32 

Flag Carried by the Bedford MiUtia at Concord 34 

Grave of British Soldiers near the Bridge at Concord .... 35 

Vicinity of the Washington Elm, Cambridge 47 

The Ruins of Fort Ticonderoga 55 

Ruins of the Officers' Quarters at Ticonderoga 56 

Ruins of Old Fort Frederick, Crown Point 60 

Map Illustrating Burgoyne's Campaign 63 

Map of Ticonderoga 65 

Battle Monument, Bennington 80 

The Catamount Tavern, now completely destroyed 81 

The Ravine near Oriskany 91 

Old Stone Church at German Flats 95 

xi 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

General Herkimer's House and Grave 98 

Castle Church, near Danube 99 

The Home of General Philip Schuyler at Old Saratoga . . . 103 

Cellar in the Marshall House, Schuylerville, which was Used as a 

Hospital by the British 108 

Old Battle Well, Freeman's Farms 113 

The Hudson River at West Point 124 

Parts of the Great Chain which was Stretched across the Hudson 125 

Old Fort Putnam, Showing the Magazines 131 

Stony Point and the Medal Awarded to Anthony Wayne . . . 135 

Headquarters at Tappan from which the Order for Andre's Execu- 
tion was Issued 138 

'76 Stone House in which Andre was Imprisoned 140 

Stone Marking the Place of Andre's Execution 142 

Old Houses on State Street, New York City 148 

Tomb of Alexander Hamilton, Trinity Churchyard 149 

The Monument to Montgomery, St. Paul's Church 151 

Washington's Pew, St. Paul's Church 152 

Map of Operations near New York City 153 

View from Old Fort Putnam (now Fort Greene), Brooklyn . 156 

Battle Pass, Prospect Park, Brooklyn 159 

The Jumel Mansion 165 

Site of Fort Washington, Looking toward Fort Lee 171 

The Point at Which Washington Crossed the Delaware River . 179 

Map of Operations around Trenton and Princeton 184 

Old King Street (now Warren Street), Trenton 188 

xii 



PAGE 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

The Old Quaker Meeting House, near Princeton 192 

Stony Brook Bridge, near Princeton 193 

House and Boom in Which General Mercer Died . _ . . . . 197 

Nassau Hall, Princeton 199 

Washington's Headquarters, Morristown 207 

Map of Vicinity of Philadelphia 217 

Washington's Headquarters, near Chadd's Ford 219 

Lafayette's Headquarters, near Chadd's Ford 221 

Birmingham Meeting House, near Chadd's Ford 225 

The Chew House, Germantown 231 

The Old Potts House at Valley Forge 239 

View from Fort Huntington, Looking toward Fort Washington 242 

Bell Used in Camp at Valley Forge 243 

The Assembly Boom, Carpenter's HaE 251 

Independence Hall, Chestnut Street Front 255 

Boom in Which the Declaration of Independence was Signed . 257 

View of Independence Hall from the Park Side 258 

Stairway in Independence Hall 259 

The Betsy Boss House 261 

The Pringle House, Charleston 275 

St. Michael's Church 276 

Statue of WiUiam Pitt, Charleston 277 

Charleston Harbor 280 

Fort Moultrie 282 

Map of Campaigns in the Carolinas, Showing Cornwallis's March 

from Charleston to Virginia 291 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



PAGE 



Comwallis's Headquarters at Camden, S. C 295 

Monument to Daniel Morgan, Spartanburg 305 

The Battle-field at Guilford Court House 311 

The Home of the President of WilHam and Mary CoUege, WiUiams- 

burg 319 

Bruton Church and the George Wythe House 321 

Hall in Carter's Grove 323 

British Intrenchment at Yorktown, and Map Showing the Posi- 
tion of the French and American Troops 330 

York River, Seen from the Inner British Works and Looking 

toward Gloucester Point 333 

The Moore House 335 

Principal Street in Yorktown, Showing Monument Commemorat- 
ing the Surrender 336 

Governor Nelson's Home 337 

Washington's Home at Mount Vernon 349 

Room in Which Washington Died 357 

Tomb of Major L'Enfant at Arlington 367 



XIV 



INTRODUCTORY 



INTRODUCTORY 

I PROPOSE, on this Revolutionary Pilgrimage, to 
take the reader, step by step, to all the important 
localities connected with our War of the Revolu- 
tion. We shall start at Lexington and Concord, and 
finish at Yorktown. En route, we shall visit battle-fields 
and historic sites, and see them as they appear to us to- 
day. We shall also note what has been done to com- 
memorate the events that took place upon them and 
perpetuate their memories. We shall see traces of old 
redoubts; the ruined walls of Ticonderoga ; the streets of 
Trenton; the spot where Washington crossed the Dela- 
ware; the buildings and churches wherein historic events 
were enacted — the places associated with Washington, 
Stark, Greene, Marion, Lafayette, and the other heroes 
of the Revolution. 

I propose also to take with us, as guides, eye-witnesses 
of the events they describe — those who have left us the 
best records of what they themselves saw — authors long 
since silent, contemporaries, sometimes illiterate, of the 
events they write about, and, in some instances, the chief 
actors in them; so that we shall read upon the spot, for 
example, Paul Revere's own account of his "Midnight 
Ride," Ethan Allen's own narrative of the taking of 

3 



INTRODUCTORY 

Ticonderoga; a Princeton student's account of the events 
that took place about his college; a Quaker's graphic 
recital of what he saw of the battle of the Brandywine; 
Major Andre's own description of the "Mischianza," and 
Cornwalhs's personal despatches of the siege of York- 
town. 

Thus I hope to make my story vivid and living. For 
the clarity of my text, I shall omit some of the less im- 
portant campaigns and treat the main episodes as nearly 
in chronological order as my journey will permit. For, 
primarily, I shall tell my story by geographical sections, 
starting in New England and ending in the South. 

Professor Albert Bushnell Hart wrote, in the "Ameri- 
can Historical Review," more than a decade ago, that 
"too little attention has been paid to the geographical 
and topographical side of American history, and a prime 
duty of Americans is the preservation and marking of 
our historical sites," 

I heartily agree with this point of view. My chief 
hope in writing tliis book is that, by stimulating interest 
in Revolutionary landmarks, it may indirectly contribute 
to their worthy and lasting preservation. 

Tlirough the admirable work of local chapters of the 
Sons and Daughters of the Revolution and of the Order 
of the Cincinnati, as well as of such active associations 
as the Society for the Preservation of Virginia Antiquities, 
many liistoric houses have been rescued from obhvion 
or destruction, appropriately "restored," and marked 
with tablets, the best form of inscription for identifica- 

4 



INTRODUCTORY 

tioii. These patriotic societies have also placed upon 
many of the battle-fields of the Revolution unobtrusive 
" markers," showing positions of troops and sites of in- 
terest. But much more can be done. 

Many of us know the historic spots round about our 
own particular locality. The New Englander, for in- 
stance, knows Bennington and Lexington; the New 
Yorker, Oriskany and Fort Edward, but could many 
of them tell me, I wonder, in what State the battles of 
the Cowpens and King's Mountain were fought — both 
turning-points in the Revolution.^ And do most of us 
realize that Valley Forge and the field of Guilford Court 
House are to-day public parks, set out with memorial 
arches and monuments ? 

The custom of visiting battle-fields is very prevalent in 
Europe. Monuments and historic tablets are national 
methods of education, aiding to visualize the events they 
commemorate and serving to impress them upon the 
public mind. From them and their stories, people inspire 
themselves with patriotism and inculcate it in their chil- 
dren. In America such is far less the case. The Civil 
War veterans make pilgrimages to the scenes of their 
struggles, it is true, but otherwise few of us look back- 
ward. Our eyes are riveted upon the future, forget- 
ting that we may learn many important lessons from the 
teachings of the past. 

Let us, then, in these momentous days, read again the 
story of our nation's birth; of the sacrifices and abnega- 
tion of our forefathers before our country became so 



INTRODUCTORY 

rich. Let us read again the story of our Revolution, and 
inspire ourselves anew with the fine old ideals of the 
"Spirit of 76." 

There is much of interest to be seen on our Revolu- 
tionary Pilgrimage — surprisingly much, as I think I shall 
be able to prove, and in these days of automobiles it is 
an easy matter to visit these historic spots. When I 
first went over the ground, some years ago, it was 
quite a different matter, for many of the places were 
remote from railways, and it took hours of driving to 
reach them. Because of motors also, the hotels have 
been much improved since then, many of the old road- 
houses having been resurrected and converted into pros- 
perous hostelries, well equipped for comfort and good 
cheer. 

I have personally visited all the localities described in 
this book — first, some years ago, as I state in my preface, 
and again, recently, to refresh my memory and ascertain 
what further has been done to mark the Revolutionary 
sites. Both tours were singularly interesting, and I wish 
my reader the same pleasure that I had, if he should elect 
to undertake a similar journey. 



AROUND BOSTON 



AROUND BOSTON 



THE BEGINNING 

OUB pilgrimage will naturally begin in Boston, 
for in Boston and its vicinity the first organized 
resistance to British oppression was made; while 
the old city still conserves more mementoes of the days 
that preceded the actual outbreak of hostilities than any 
other in our country. 

The lion and the unicorn on the old State House gable 
had looked down upon the Boston massacre, when, on 
a clear March night in 1770, the new-fallen snow was 
tinged with the blood of unarmed citizens; near the 
corner of Washington and Essex Streets once stood the 
Liberty Tree, in whose shade the "Sons of Liberty" 
used to meet and discuss their grievances. From the 
door of the Old South Meeting House — still one of the 
city's venerated landmarks — a crowd of men, disguised as 
savages, set out for Griffin's wharf, where they boarded 
the Dartsmouth, the Eleanor, and Beaver and dumped 
their cargoes of tea into the harbor. 

Through a window above the pulpit of this same 
meeting-house. Doctor Warren was introduced on the 
fifth anniversary of the Boston massacre, that is, on the 
5th of March, 1775, and its walls echoed the ringing 

9 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

sentences, bold and prophetic, of his oration to the 
townspeople : 

"Our streets are again filled with armed men; our 
harbor is crowded with ships of war, but these cannot 
intimidate us; our liberty must be preserved, it is dearer 
than life. . . . Our country is in danger; our enemies 
are numerous and powerful, but we have many friends 
and, determining to be free, heaven and earth will aid 
the resolution. You are to decide the important ques- 
tion, on which rests the happiness and hberty of millions 
yet unborn. Act worthy of yourselves." 

Thus events were shaping to a crisis, and the town 
was a centre of patriotic ferment. John Hancock and 
Samuel Adams were busy. Paul Revere and his friends 
were holding their meetings at the Green Dragon Tavern, 
and carefully watching the movements of the Rritish 
troops. 

Near where this tavern once stood, in the North End, 
— once Boston's "Little Britain," now its "Little Italy," 
— fronting the small triangular North Square, still stands 
a humble dwelling. When Paul Revere bought it, in 1770, 
it was nearly a hundred years old, and it still looks almost 
as it did when first built. A patriotic group, the Paul 
Revere Memorial Association, has cleared away excres- 
cences, replaced the old diamond-shaped, leaded window- 
panes, and the square, fat chimney, and closed the shops 
that once disfigured its front, so that now the house has 
again assumed the appearance it had when Paul Revere 
occupied it in 1775. His own flintlock hangs above the 

10 



AROUND BOSTON 



living-room mantel; his toddy-warmer is on the kitchen 
shelf; and prints from his copper-plates and his adver- 
tisements in the "broadsides" — the single-sheet news- 
papers of the day — ^are displayed in the rooms up-stairs. 
From this very house, as we see it to-day, he set forth 
on his famous "midnight ride." 

But a few minutes' walk away, over in Salem Street, 
Christ Church, now known as the Old North, rears its 
shapely spire. So conspicuously did this once tower above 
the houses on Copp's Hill that 
by it mariners used to shape 
their course up the bay. 

If you are agile enough you 
still may chmb this steeple. A 
flight of wooden stairs leads 
first to the bell-ringer's cham- 
ber, then on to the bell-loft 
itself, where hang eight bells, 
whose inscriptions, cast in the 
bronze, tell their remarkable 
history. On number one you 
read: "This peal of bells is 
the gift of generous persons to 
Christ Church, Boston, 
New England, Anno 
1744"; on number 
three : ' ' We are the first 
ring of bells cast for ^ 

the British Empire in THE "OLD t^ORTH 



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Tilt Signal L« 


Item! 


of 


PAUL REVERE 




difpla^cd in the ft«pl 


t of thi 


s church 


April 1 8 


/75 




warned the country 


of iht 


march 


rf the Bntilh 


loopi 


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Lexington md 


CONCORD. 1 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

North America"; and on number eight: "Abel Rudhall 
of Gloucester cast us all. Anno 1744." Their joyful voices 
sounded the repeal of the Stamp Act and proclaimed 
Cornwallis's surrender and, in between, many another 
event of those stirring Revolutionary days. 

From the loft in which they hang I mounted again, 
by a succession of hazardous ladders, to a gallery above 
them, and thence to the lantern that forms the crown- 
ing feature of the steeple, turning a round-headed window 
to each point of the compass. The sun poured merrily 
into the eastern window, through which I could see far 
down the bay, with its shipping and necks of land. 
From the south window I could discern the sky-scrapers 
and big office-buildings of the modern city, and the gilded 
dome of the State House shining conspicuously on the 
top of Reacon Hill. The west window revealed, above 
thei tree-tops of Copp's Hill burning-ground, the Charles 
River, with its terminals and dockyards, and Cambridge 
spreading out beyond; while, to the north, the Runker 
Hill monument pointed like a giant finger upward above 
the red houses of Charlestown. 

From my conspicuous point of vantage I realized so 
well how far the beacons, placed within tliis lantern, 
could cast their fitful beams — how plainly they could be 
seen from all the countryside. And this was Paul Re- 
vere's thought when he agreed with Colonel Conant, in 
Cambridge, to place his signal lanterns in the Old North 
steeple. 

I shall now let Paul Revere himself tell the story of 

n 



AROUND BOSTON 

these lanterns, and of his famous ride on the night of the 
18th of April, 1775.* 

"In the fall of 1774 and winter of 1775, I was one of 
upwards thirty, chiefly mechanics, who formed ourselves 
into a committee for the purpose of watching the move- 
ments of the British soldiers and gaining every intelli- 
gence of the movements of the tories. We held our meet- 
ings at the Green Dragon Tavern. We were so careful 
that our meetings should be kept secret, that every time 
we met, every person swore upon the bible that they would 
not discover any of our transactions but to Messrs. 
Hancock, Adams, Doctors Warren, Church, and one or 
two more. . . . 

"The Saturday night preceding the 19th of April 
about 12 o'clock at night, the boats belonging to the trans- 
ports were all launched, and carried under the sterns of 
the men-of-war. . . . On Tuesday evening, the 18th, 
it was observed that a number of soldiers were marching 
towards the bottom of the Common. About 10 o'clock. 
Dr. Warren sent in great haste for me and begged that I 
would immediately set off for Lexington, where Messrs. 
Hancock and Adams were, and acquaint them with the 
movement and that it was thought they were the 
objects. . . . 

"The Sunday before, by desire of Dr. Warren, I had 
been to Lexington to Messrs. Hancock and Adams who 
were at the Rev. Mr. Clark's. I returned at night 
through Charlestown; there I agreed with a Colonel 
Conant, and some other gentlemen, that, if the British 
went out by water, we would shew two lanthorns in the 
north church steeple; and if by land, one, as a signal; 

* A letter from Colonel Paul Revere to the corresponding secretary, in the 
"Collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society," for the year 1798. 

13 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

for we were apprehensive it would be difficult to cross 
the Charles River, or get over Boston Neck. I left 
Dr. Warren, called upon a friend,* and desired him to 
make the signals. I then went home, took my boots 
and surtout, went to the north part of the town where 
I had kept a boat; two friends rowed me across Charles 
River, a little to the eastward where the Somerset man 
of war lay. It was then young flood, the ship was wind- 
ing, and the moon was rising. They landed me on the 
Charlestown side. When I got into town, I met Colonel 
Conant and several others; they said they had seen our 
signals. I told them what was acting and went to get 
me a horse; I got a horse of Deacon Larkin. . . . 

"I set off upon a very good horse; it was then about 
eleven o'clock, and very pleasant. After I had passed 
Charlestown Neck, and got nearly opposite where Mark 
was hung in chains, I saw two men on horseback, under 
a tree. When I got near them, I discovered they were 
British officers. One tried to get ahead of me, and the 
other to take me. I turned my horse quick and galloped 
toward Charlestown Neck, and then pushed for Medford 
road. . . . The one who chased me, endeavoring to cut 
me off, got into a clay pond, near where the new tavern 
is now built. I got clear of him, and went through Med- 
ford, over the bridge, and up to Menotomy. In Medford, 
I awaked the Captain of the minute men; and after that 
I alarmed almost every house till I got to Lexington. I 
found Messrs. Hancock and Adams at the rev. Mr. 
Clark's. . . ." 

Now, before he proceeds, let us follow him thus far 
upon his road. According to his narrative, he crossed 

* His old friend. Captain John Pulling, a merchant of Boston and a 
vestryman of Christ Church. 

14 



AROUND BOSTON 

the Charles somewhere in the vicinity of present-day 
Charlestown Bridge, passed via the Neck into Cambridge, 
and started out to Lexington by the main road, now called 
Massachusetts Avenue. But, meeting the officers, he 
turned back, took the Medford Road through Somerville, 
and across the Mystic lowlands. 

This route to-day forms part of the city's suburbs, 
and is built up until you attain the Mystic River, where 
first you reach open country. Following it recently, I 
found the Mystic lowlands newly parked and set out 
with lawns and avenues of trees. Soon we came into the 
twisting streets of old Medford, with its comfortable 
houses shaded by towering elms — one of those pleasant 
towns that impart such charm to the environs of Boston, 
its newer homes interspersed with just enough old dwell- 
ings to give variety and create the special atmosphere 
that characterizes the older settlements of Massachusetts. 

At Medford Common we turned sharp to the left and 
made for West Medford, where a sign-board, nailed to a 
tree, told us we were really upon the right trail and fol- 
lowing "Paul Revere's Ride." We crossed the Mystic 
"over the bridge," as he says, with the Mystic Lakes 
lying off to the right, and then came "up to Menotomy," 
now Arlington, its old name, however, perpetuated upon 
the sign of one of the local banks. 

Here at Arlington we met the main road from Boston, 
to which I have alluded — Massachusetts Avenue — the 
road that Paul Revere started to take when he fell in 
with the officers; and the one that the British troops did 

15 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

take later in the night, when they set out for Lexington 
in the darkness, marching in secrecy and silence, to ar- 
rest "Messrs. Hancock and Adams and then, at Con- 
cord, to seize the military stores known to be collected 
there." 



16 



II 

LEXINGTON AND CONCORD 

MASSACHUSETTS AVENUE leads directly 
through Arlington and East Lexington to 
Lexington Green. As you turn its last elbow 
and pass the historic Munroe Tavern * you perceive 
straight before you, Henry Kitson's bronze statue of the 
Minuteman, gun in hand, peering down the road from 
the top of a great boulder, watching expectantly for the 
British Regulars. 

And thus did the minutemen, warned by Paul Revere 
and by William Dawes, another messenger who arrived 
a little later, stand in the gray dawn of the 19th of April, 
expectant, calm, and firm, grimly awaiting the arrival 
of the redcoats. 

Revere, after warning the people of Lexington, had en- 
deavored to reach Concord and spread the alarm there, 
but half-way he was intercepted by a British patrol and 
taken back to Lexington where the officers relieved him 
of his horse and left him. 

He thus resumes his narrative in a sworn statement 
that I have before me in a facsimile of his original hand- 
writing : 

" I then went to the house where I left Messrs. Adams 
and Hancock, and told them what had happened; their 

* See page 37. 
17 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

friends advised them to go out of the way; I went with 
them about two miles a cross road; after resting myself. 
I sett off with another man to go to the Tavern to en- 
quire the News; when we got there, we were told the 
troops were within two miles. We went into the Tavern 
to git the Trunk of papers belonging to Col. Hancock; 
before we left the house, I saw the Ministerial Troops 
from the Chamber window. We made haste and had 
to pass thro' our Mihtia, who were on a green behind the 
meeting house, to the number as I supposed of about 
50 or 60. I went thro' them; as I passed, I heard the 
commanding officer speake to his men to this purpose, 
'Lett the troops pass by, and don't molest them, with- 
out they begin first.' 

"I had to go a cross road, but had not got half gun 
shot off, when the Ministerial troops appeared on right 
behind the Meeting House; they made a short halt, 
when one gun was fired; I heard the report, turned my 
head, and saw the smoake in front of the Troops, they 
immediately gave a great shout, ran a few paces, and then 
the whole fired." 

This, his account, agrees perfectly with recorded his- 
tory. The tavern to which he alludes, still fronts upon 
the Green, and is known as the Buckman Tavern. In it 
the militia assembled that morning, and from it marched 
forth to take their place upon the Common. Their 
line is marked by a rough boulder that bears upon its 
face Captain Parker's words, substantially as Revere 
records them: "Stand your ground; don't fire until fired 
upon, but if they mean to have a war let it begin here." 

If you place yourself beside this boulder, it will take 

18 



AROUND BOSTON 

but little imagination to reconstruct the scene. The big, 
barn-like meeting-house stood near the statue of the 
Minuteman, where a tablet marks its site. The old 
wooden belfry, so clearly shown in Doolittle's primitive 
engraving of the scene, stood near it. ''The Ministerial 




Lexington Green at the Present Time 

troops appeared on right behind the Meeting House" 
and formed their line with Major Pitcairn at their head. 
The fu-st shot was fired from his pistol. Jonathan Har- 
rington, one of the patriots who fell at the first volley, 
dragged himself to his house, that still stands behind you, 
and died at his wife's feet. 

Beyond, a little way up the Woburn Road, stands the 
home of the Reverend Jonas Clark, in which Hancock 
and Adams were sleeping when awakened by Paul Re- 
vere. This Clark house is the most interesting of all 

19 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 



r" 













2^ - 






Buckmaii Tavern 



the present-day structures of Lexington, and we grate- 
fully owe its preservation from destruction to the efforts 
of the Lexington Historical Society. Its oldest portion, 
the one-story ell, was built in 1698 by the Reverend John 
Hancock, who reared his five children in it. His second 
son, grown a wealthy Roston merchant, built on the 
main portion of the house for his father, who died in it 

20 



AROUND BOSTON 

in 1752. Three years later the Reverend Jonas Clark, 
who had married one of Hancock's granddaughters, 
moved in to become the village pastor. 

Edward Everett, who knew Clark, recalls his sym- 
pathetic voice, "to wliich all listened with reverence 
and dehght," and describes him as a clergyman who 
"enlightened and animated the popular mind," a learned 
theologian, a correct and careful writer. As we have 
just seen, he was related by marriage to the John Han- 
cock of the Revolutionary period, who had spent many 
of his boyhood days in this old home of his grand- 
father. 

On the 18th of April, 1775, there was another guest 
in the house besides the two distinguished patriots who 
occupied the large room on the ground floor. This was 
Dorothy Quincy, John Hancock's betrothed, whom he 



■W^i* 
















-, ^// 

— // CONTflRE LNLESS FIRED (.I'D 1 ^t 

— '=^^ ■^ BjT ir T^^;Y wcan to nft c a ^ap ^ 

UT IT HFG 1 HER.L f 

The Boulder and Harrington House > 

21 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

married in the following August — the one romantic note 
in all this grim Lexington tragedy. 

Paul Revere tells us that Hancock and Adams left 
Mr. Clark's house after his second warning. Rut the 
pastor remained, and he has written for posterity a clear 
account of what he himself saw from his own house, for 
at that time there was nothing but open country be- 
tween the parsonage and the village green. I quote the 
following extracts from his little-known narrative: 

"At half an hour after four (in the morning) alarm 
guns were fwed and the drums beat to arms; the militia 
were collecting together. About 50 or 60, or possibly 
more, were on the parade, others coming toward it. In 
the mean time the troops, having stolen a march upon 
us, and, to prevent any intelligence of their approach, 
having seized and held prisoners several persons whom 
they met unarmed, seemed to come determined for mur- 
der and bloodshed; and that whether provoked to it or 
not ! W hen within half a quarter of a mile of the meet- 
ing house, they halted and the command was given to 
prime and load; which being done, they marched on till 
they came up to the east end of said meeting house, in 
sight of our militia, (collecting as aforesaid) who were 
about 12 or 13 rods distant. . . . Immediately upon 
their appearing so suddenly and so nigh Captain Parker, 
who commanded the niiUtia, ordered the men to disperse 
and take care of themselves ; and not to fire. — LTpon this 
our men dispersed; — but many of them not so speedily 
as they might have done. 

"About the same time, tliree officers . . . advanced 
to the front of the body and . . . one of them cried 

22 



AROUND BOSTON 



out 'Ye villains, ye rebels, disperse. Damn you dis- 
perse ' or words to that effect. . . . The second of these 
officers, about this time, fired a pistol toward the mihtia 
as they were dispersing . . . which was immediately 
followed by a discharge of arms from said troops, suc- 
ceeded by a very heavy and close fire upon our party, dis- 
persing, so long as any of them were within reach. Eight 
were left dead upon the ground! Ten were wounded. 
The rest of the com- 
pany, through divine 
goodness, were (to a 
miracle) preserved in 
this murderous ac- 
tion ! . . . One circum- 
stance more ; before 
the brigade quitted 
Lexington, to give a further specimen of the spirit and 
character of the officers and men of this body of troops. 
After the mihtia company were dispersed and the firing 
ceased, the troops drew up and formed in a body on the 
common, fired a volley and gave three huzzas by way of 
triumph, and as expression of the joy of victory and glory 
of conquest ! Of this transaction I was a witness, having 
at that time a fair view of their motions, and being at 
a distance of not more than 70 or 80 rods from them." 




Major Pifcairns Pistols 



Treasured in the Clark house, from which the patriot- 
minister watched this scene, I found the bell-clapper 
that sounded the alarm from the wooden belfry, and the 
very drum that Wilhani Diamond beat to assemble the 
mihtia that April morning. There, too, is the identical 
brace of pistols that belonged to Major Pitcairn, and from 
which he fired the first shot of the war — weapons that 

23 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

he lost later in the day, together with his horse and ac- 
coutrements, when he was wounded in a skirmish at 
Fisk's Hill. The pistols were sold to Nathan Barrett, 
of Concord, who in turn presented them to General 
Israel Putnam, and he carried them throughout the war. 

Half an hour after giving their "three huzzas," the 
British troops took up their inarch again and proceeded 
to Concord, six miles away, with the purpose of seiz- 
ing the mihtary stores collected there in the Barrett 
house. 

Thither we shall now follow them by the same road 
that they took — a highway that winds up and down 
through a rough and broken country, interspersed with 
little groves of pines and cedars. Stone walls and apple- 
orchards border the road, and over them at times, on 
the liill-crests, you see out to far distances and obtain 
views of rolling fields dotted here and there with farm- 
houses. 

About midway to Concord we noticed a tablet record- 
ing the fact that here "ended the midnight ride of Paul 
Revere," for it was at this spot that he was stopped by 
the British patrol. Longfellow, in the celebrated poem 
that has made of Revere's name a household word, takes 
him farther than he went: 

"It was two by the village clock. 
When he came to the bridge in Concord town," 

which lines are not borne out by fact, as Paul Revere 
never reached old Concord. 

24 



AROUND BOSTON 

We did, however, and as the hilly road from Lexington 
finally led us into the town memories other than those 
connected with the Revolution for a moment crowded 
my brain. There, to the right, rose the gables of "The 
Wayside" that was Hawthorne's home; then we passed 




The W rigid Tavern. Coiirord 

Orchard House and the School of Philosophy, so inti- 
mately connected with the Alcotts, and opposite the calm 
white house set in pine-trees where Ralph Waldo Emer- 
son wrote his "Essays." 

But as soon as we reached Concord Green the Revolu- 
tionary atmosphere returned, for the great white meet- 
ing-house, now somewhat modernized, the old burying- 

25 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

ground with its slate headstones, and, most of all, the 
Wright Tavern, all vividly recall the events that pre- 
ceded the Concord fight. At the tavern that still turns 
its shingle to the road and retains much of its old-time 
appearance, Major Pitcairn, the sinister hero of the day, 
stopped for his glass of toddy and gave vent to his idle 
boasts. 

When making the accompanying drawings I spent a 
fortnight in this ancient hostelry, seduced by the charm 
of a neat room "up-chamber," with its view, tlirough 
chintz curtains and small window-panes, of the great 
white meeting-house opposite, where the First Provin- 
cial Congress met. Indeed, so charming a place is 
Concord that I recall that sojourn with the greatest 
pleasure. 

To reach the battle-ground, you follow Monument 
Street until you pass, upon your right, an old house with 
a bullet still embedded in its wall. Then you turn 
toward the river, beside the Old Manse, hallowed by so 
many memories, "worthy to have been one of the time- 
honored parsonages of England, in which, through many 
generations, a succession of holy occupants pass from 
youth to age and bequeath each an inheritance of sanc- 
tity to pervade the house and hover over it as with an 
atmosphere," to quote Hawthorne's own description of 
it. Its back windows overlook the Old North Bridge 
and the battle-field. From one of them — a window 
in the study upon the second floor, in which her 
grandson, Ralph Waldo Emerson ^ later wrote his "Na- 

26 



AROUND BOSTON 



ture," and in which Hawthorne prepared for the press 
his "Mosses from an Old Manse" — Phoebe Bhss Emer- 
son, wife of the parish minister and grandmother of 
Ralph Waldo, watched the battle that memorable April 
morning. 

Her direct descendants still occupy the Manse, and 
have preserved its rare and subtle atmosphere intact, for 
the portraits that hang in the hall, the antique furniture, 
the panelling and the hand-printed wall-papers of the 
old rooms still compose a perfect picture of the life of 
long ago. 

Recently, when we were visiting some friends who live 
just out of Concord, these people were among the guests 
at dinner. Later in the evening, I read to them the fol- 
lowing account of the Concord fight, a document that I 
unearthed, re- 
produced in fac- 
simile, and of 
which they had 
never heard, nor 
had any of the 
other Concord 
people that I 
met. It was ;2?^ 
written by an 

Amos Barrett, '^ ..^ 

but what rela- 
tion, if any, he .- ■ - 

was to Colonel Barrett House, near Concord 

27 







REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

James Barrett, who commanded the Concord minute- 
men, I have not been able to ascertain. 

His is the most grapliic eye-witness's account of the 
battle that I have been able to find. He prefaces his 
story by telling of the march of the British troops tlirough 
Cambridge and Lexington toward Concord, and then 
continues : 

"We at Concord heard that they were coming. The 
bell rung at three o'clock for alarm. As I was a minute 
man, I was soon in town and found my captain and the 
rest of my company at the post. It wasn't long before 
there was another minute company. (One company, I 
believe, of minute men was raised in almost every town, 
to stand at a minute's warning.) Before sunrise there 
were I beheve 150 of us and more of all that was there. 
We thought we would go and meet the British. We 
marched down towards Lexington about a mile or mile 
and a half and we see them a-coming. We halted and 
staid till they got within about 100 rods, then ordered 
to the about face and marched before them with our 
drums and fifes going and also the British. We had grand 
music. We marched into town and over the north bridge 
a little more than half a mile and then on a hill not far 
from the bridge, where we could see and hear what was 
a-going on. . . . 

"While we were on the hill by the bridge, there were 
80 or 90 British came to the bridge and there made a 
halt. After a while they began to tear the planks from 
the bridge. Major Buttrick said if we were all his mind, 
he would drive them away from the bridge — they should 
not tear that up. We all said we would go. We, then, 
were not loaded. We were all ordered to load, and had 

28 




Concord Bridge 



AROUND BOSTON 

strict orders not to fire till they fired first, then to fire as 
fast as we could. We then marched on. Capt. Davis' 
company marched first, then Capt. Allen's minute com- 
pany, the one I was in, next. We marched 2 deep. It 
was a long corsay (causeway) being round by the river. 

"Capt. Davis had got I believe within 15 rods of the 
British when they fired 3 guns, one after another. I see 
the ball strike in the river on the right of me. As soon 
as they fired them, they fired on us. The balls whistled 
well. We then were all ordered to fire that could fire 
and not kill our own men. It is strange there were no 
more killed but they fired too liigh. Capt. Davis was 
killed and Mr. Osmore (Hosmer) and a number wounded. 
We soon drove them from the bridge, when I got over, 
there were 2 lay dead and another almost dead. We did 
not follow them. There were 8 or 10 that were wounded 
and a-running and hobbhng about, looking back to see 
if we were after them. 

"We then saw the whole body coming out of town. 
We were then ordered to lay behind a wall that run over 
a hill and when they got near enough Maj. Buttrick 
said he would give the word fire. But they did not come 
so near as he expected before they halted. The com- 
manding officer ordered the whole battalion to halt and 
officers to the front march. The officers then marched 
to the front. There we lay behind the wall, about 200 
of us, with our guns cocked, expecting every minute to 
have the word, fire. Our orders were if we fired, to fire 
2 or 3 times and then retreat. If we had fired, I beheve 
we would have killed almost every officer there was in the 
front; but we had no orders to fire and they wan't again 
fired (on), they staid about 10 minutes and then marched 
back and we after them. After a while we found them 
marching back toward Boston. We were soon after them. 

31 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 



"When they got about a mile and a half to a road 
that comes from Bedford and Bildrica (Billerica) they 

were waylaid and a great 
many killed. When I got 
there, a great many lay dead 
and the road was bloody." * 



This account, I tliink, gives 
a clear idea of the successive 
phases of the fight; the as- 
sembhng of the various com- 
panies on Concord Green; 
their march to meet the 
British; their retirement to 
the hill beyond the North 
Bridge; their assault upon 
the troops who attempted to 
destroy it; the arrival of re- 
inforcements for the British, 
and the beginning of thek 
retreat. 

The battle-ground is still 
a secluded spot, propitious 
for meditation. The placid 
river, well named Concord, 
flows silently by, threading 
its way through the meadows. 





Daniel French's Statue of 
the " Minutemmi" 



* Captain Amos Barrett was afterward at Bunker Hill and at Burgoyne's 
surrender. He himself says: "I was in the whole of it from Concord to 
Bunker Hill." I have corrected some of his errors of orthography, but 
left enough to give color to the picturesque narrative. 

32 



AROUND BOSTON 

As I sat sketching, I could perceive no sound above its 
murmur, but the rusthng of the leaves, the chirping of 
birds, or the squeak of a squirrel cracking nuts in the trees 
above my head. An old-fashioned monument, by the 
bridge-head, marks the position of the British troops and 

is thus inscribed: 

Here 

On the 19th of April, 1775 

was made the first forcible resistance to 

BRITISH AGGRESSION 

On the opposite bank stood the American 

Militia, and on this spot the first of the enemy fell 

in the WAR OF THE REVOLUTION 

which gave Independence to these United States. 

In gratitude to God, and in the name of freedom 

This Monument is erected 

A.D. 1836. 

But a few steps from it lie the three British soldiers w ho 
fell in the fight, buried within an enclosure marked off 
by stone posts, connected by a chain. Since I made my 
draw ing their graves have been designated with a tablet. 
The bridge has been rebuilt recently, but upon the same 
old lines. Beyond it stands Daniel French's fine bronze 
statue of the "Minuteman" alive, alert, with one hand 
upon his plough, the other firmly grasping his fhnt-lock 
as he hurries off to assembly. Behind him rises the gentle 
slope of Battle Lawn, as it is called, "the hill not far from 
the bridge," to which Amos Barrett refers, and on which 
he took up his position with the minutemen. 

There was, as far as is known, but one flag that waved 

33 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 




Flag Carried by 
the 'Bedford 
Militia at 
Concord 



over the "embattled farmers" that April morning, I 
knew of its existence and had seen it before and made 
a drawing of it. But I wished to refresh my memory. 
So one morning we motored over to Bedford, only a few 
miles from Concord, and drew up be- 
fore an old house railed off from the 
road by prim white palings. There I 
found the gentleman who had been so 
kind to me upon my former visit. He 
took us over to the town hall, and led 
us down into the basement. Hanging 
his hat upon an electric bulb, so that 
he would "not forget to put out the 
electric lights again," he took us to a 
great safe built in the wall. This he 
opened and disclosed an inner safe. It, in turn, con- 
tained a smaller compartment, especially made to 
receive the flag, wliich is placed between two plates of 
glass so that both sides can be seen. It is a piece of 
handsome crimson damask, upon which has been painted 
a mailed arm and hand grasping a dagger, surrounded 
by a ribbon on which is the singularly appropriate de- 
vice: Vince aut morire. 

While we were looking at it he told us its story. It 
Avas made in England, and sent out to the militia of 
Middlesex County about 1670. It became one of their 
accepted standards, and as such was used by the Bedford 
company. It belonged by inheritance to the Page family, 
and Nathaniel Page was cornet and color-bearer at the 

34 



AROUND BOSTON 

time of the Concord fight. When aroused by the early 
morning summons of the 19th of April, he seized it and 
hurried off to join his company — the Bedford Company — - 
which was assembhng at the Fitch Tavern. 

Our kind host, Mr. Jenks (whose mother was a Fitch), 
then led us back to his own home again — once the Fitch 
Tavern, the house behind the white palings, to which I 
have alluded — and we entered the very room in which the 
minutemen assembled that April morning. In its corner 
still stands the cupboard from which drinks were served, 
and here Jonathan Wilson, the company's captain, who 
was killed later in the day, uttered his well-known words: 
"It's a cold breakfast, boys, but we'll give the British 
a hot dinner; we'll have every dog of them before night." 




* tt 



Grave of British Soldiers near the Bridge at Concord 

35 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

The house is filled with souvenirs, and we went about 
with our friend and his sister and saw their family trea- 
sures: portraits and furniture, books and mementos; the 
frocks and slippers that once set off the charms of their 
great-grandmother; the fans and hair combs that are 
now carefully laid away in cabinets. 

You will remember that Captain Amos Barrett con- 
cludes his narrative with these two sentences: "When 
they [the British] got about a mile and a half to the road 
that comes from Bedford and Bildrica [Billerica] they 
were waylaid and a great many killed. When I got there 
a great many lay dead and the road was bloody." These 
words refer to the fight at the crossroads that are now 
known as Merriam's Corner. 

After the fight at the North Bridge the British com- 
mander, Colonel Smith, seeing the militia gathering from 
every side, and apprehending very serious trouble, had 
already despatched a messenger for reinforcements, when 
at about noon he decided to start back by the way he had 
come, and reach Boston while yet he could. Here, at Mer- 
riam's Corner, he was first set upon by the militia com- 
panies. Carved upon a stone, at the crossroads we read : 

The British troops 

retreating from the 

Old North Bridge 

were here attacked in flank 

by the men of Concord 

and neighboring towns 

and driven under a hot fire 

to Charlestown. 

36 



AROUND BOSTON 

These words sound the key-note of the disastrous re- 
treat. The minutemen, in deadly earnest, enraged at 
the death of their comrades, hiding behind fences and 
barns, utihzing every point of vantage, picked off the 
British soldiers, who, worn by their long night march 
and by the various events of the day, dusty and be- 
draggled, harassed incessantly by the fire of their hidden 
enemies, plodded doggedly on, finally making their way 
back to Lexington, but leaving many of their number 
lying upon the road. 

In Lexington, fortunately for them, they were met 
by the reinforcements sent out by General Gage from 
Boston, with Lord Percy in command. He had taken 
up his position at the Munroe Tavern, already mentioned, 
and had planted two field-pieces on the high ground near 
it. He had formed his nine hundred men into a hollow 
square, and into this hving fortress the jaded regulars re- 
treated, so exhausted that many fell upon the ground, with 
their "tongues hanging out," to take a moment's respite. 

But not for long. To reach the protection of Boston 
before night was imperative. So, tired and hungry, they 
resumed their march again, fighting intermittent skir- 
mishes all the way, until, toward nightfall, they reached 
Cambridge with their enemies still hanging close upon 
their heels. Here they found the bridge across the 
Charles torn up, so, retreating over the Neck, they finally 
attained Charlestown, where they encamped for the night 
on Bunker Hill, with two hundred and seventy-three of 
their number missing. 

37 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

Thus closed that memorable day — the day that stirred 
men to decisive action, and from which may be dated 
"the liberty of the American world." 

I feel that I cannot better terminate tliis chapter de- 
voted to its stirring events than by quoting the sentence 
with which Richard Henry Dana concluded his oration, 
delivered at Lexington on the 19th of April, 1875, before 
the President of the LTnited States and a distinguished 
company, met to celebrate the hundredth anniversary of 
the fight: 

"God grant, that, if the day of peril shall come, the 
people of this republic, so favored, so numerous, so pros- 
perous, so rich, so educated, so triumphant, may meet 
it — and we can ask no more — with as much intelligence, 
self-control, self-devotion, and fortitude as did the men 
of this place, in their fewness, simplicity, and poverty, 
one hundred years ago!" 



38 



Ill 

BUNKER HILL 

THE 19th of April, 1775, was followed by a month 
or two of feverish activity in and around Boston, 
and, indeed, throughout all the American col- 
onies. Tidings of the fights at Lexington and Concord 
spread like wild-fire through the land. East and west, 
north and south, as the message flew from the Green 
Mountain intervales to the cypress swamps of the Caro- 
linas, patriots sprang to arms. 

The Rhode Island Assembly voted an "army of ob- 
servation," and appointed Nathaniel Greene, an iron- 
master, who was destined to become second only to 
Washington liimself in the high command, as its brigadier. 
Twelve hundred men from the New Hampshire Grants, 
with gallant John Stark at their head, marched into the 
camp at Cambridge; while Israel Putnam led the men of 
Connecticut as they came to join their comrades near 
Boston. So that soon the American lines extended from 
Prospect Hill, to the north of Cambridge, all the way to 
Roxbury, both wings being protected by intrenchments. 
Meanwhile, the British garrison in Boston had also 
been reinforced by the arrival of fresh regiments from 
England, with three distinguished generals — Howe, Clin- 

39 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

ton, and Burgoyne — names we shall often meet hereafter. 
But this proud army and the governor himself found 
themselves besieged within their own city, quite sur- 
rounded by land if not by sea. It was a serious situa- 
tion, and the British generals decided to combat it by 
fortifying Dorchester Heights on the one hand, and 
Bunker Hill on the other, thus threatening both Ameri- 
can flanks. 

This intention became known to the patriots, so, to 
forestall the scheme, a httle army was paraded in the 
camp at Cambridge on the evening of the 16th of June 
• — a clear, warm night — and furnished with picks and 
shovels. President Langdon of Harvard offered up a 
prayer, and the citizen-soldiers set out for Charlestown. 
There they halted on Bunker Hill, but the engineers de- 
cided that Breed's Hill, just beyond, was better suited 
to their purpose. In grim silence, Colonel Gridley 
traced the lines for the intrenchments, and the men fell 
to work with their picks and shovels in the darkness. 

Not a word was spoken, for there, directly below them 
in the river, lay the three British frigates — the Somerset, 
Lively, and Falcon — and the "all's well" of the ships' 
sentries came clearly to the workers' ears, from time to 
time, to tell them that as yet they were undiscovered. 
So they toiled on vigorously through the night, and by 
dawn had thrown up a long intrenchment with a redoubt 
on the very spot where the mighty Bunker Hill Monu- 
ment now raises its granite shaft. 

Their activities were not discovered until daylight re- 

40 



AROUND BOSTON 

vealed their breastworks to the watch on the Lively, who 
instantly gave the alarm. Soon the booming of this 
ship's guns was waking the people of Boston, who crowded 
the streets and flocked to points of vantage in the North 
End, where, torn by conflicting emotions — Wliigs pray- 
ing for the "rebels," Tories for the "regulars" — they 
prepared to watch the impending battle from housetops 
and steeples. 

Meanwhile General Gage had called a council at his 
headquarters, a house that stood until quite recently in 
Hull Street, nearly opposite Copp's Hill burying-ground 
and within a stone's throw of the Old North Church. 
With his ofiicers he then crossed over to the old grave- 
yard to watch events and direct them. 

So, to Copp's Hill burying-ground let us follow him. 
Tliis ancient cemetery, occupying the highest hill in North 
Boston, has retained its old-time character intact. A 
great proportion of the graves that we see in it to-day 
were there at the time of the Revolution. There lie the 
Hutchinsons, father and grandfather of the last royal 
governor; there are interred 

The REVEREND DOCTORS 
INCREASE, COTTON 
& SAMUEL MATHER 

as the inscription upon their simple tombstone records; 
there, "buried in a stone grave 10 feet deep," lies that 
stanch old patriot, Captain Daniel Malcolm, "one of 
the foremost in opposing the Revenue Acts in America." 

41 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

"You may bang the dirt and welcome, they're as safe 
as Dan'l Malcohn 
Ten foot beneath the gravestone that you've sphntered 
with your balls !'* 

And, indeed, his and many another tombstone in the old 
graveyard still bear traces of the bullets that flew that 
afternoon. 

At the time of the battle there was a battery of six 
guns in Copp's Hill burying-ground, placed near the 
Mather tomb. General Gage took up his position be- 
side this battery and, through his glasses, could plainly 
see the Americans and Prescott walking upon the parapet 
talking to and encouraging his men. 

To-day, of course, the view across the Charles has 
changed radically since the time of the Revolution. 
Rreed's Hill, then an open pasture, is now part of a 
crowded city. Factories, terminals, docks, and houses 
have obliterated all the ancient landmarks. Yet, from 
this point of vantage, I think, can still be obtained the 
best idea of the battle of Runker Hill.f 

The north slope of Copp's Hill pitches steeply down to 
the river. Directly below, at the ferry where Paul Re- 
vere had crossed and where Charlestown Rridge now 
spans the river, lay the Somerset man-of-war, the largest 
of the Rritish ships. Old Charlestown stood by the 
waterside just beyond, under the shadow of Rreed's Hill, 
upon which the monument now stands so conspicuously. 

* "Grandmother's Story of Bunker Hill," by Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
t See decorative cover lining. 

42 



AROUND BOSTON 

Near the present navy-yard the Lively and Falcon lay 
at anchor. To the foot of the eminence farther off to 
the right, then called Morton's Hill, the British troops 
were ferried over, landed, and formed for the attack. 

By this time it was three in the afternoon. The day 
was warm, the sky cloudless. Deliberately, the grenadiers 
and light infantry deployed their lines, and then, three 
deep, in the blistering sunshine, began the toilsome as- 
cent of Breed's Hill. Silently the patriots waited behind 
their breastworks, watching them coming. And the word 
went round: "Wait till you see the whites of their eyes." 
"Aim at the handsome coats; pick off the commanders ! " 

We all know the rest of the story: how the regulars 
mounted in grim, serried ranks; how the provincials 
waited until they were within fifty yards, then poured 
down upon them one deadly volley after another; how 
the gallant redcoat ranks faltered, staggered, and broke; 
how they were rallied by their officers for a second attack 
and, with General Howe leading, mounted once more over 
the bodies of their fallen comrades, and how again, before 
the deadly aim of the patriot-soldiers, their lines broke 
and they fell back to the shore. 

Meanwhile, hot shot, flung into Charlestown, had set 
it on fire. General Clinton, who, with General Bur- 
goyne, had been watching the battle from Copp's Hill, 
now rushed down to the waterside and, with reinforce- 
ments, crossed over to aid his comrades. Slowly and 
painfully the British troops reformed their ranks and 
bravely faced their redoubtable enemy a tliird time. 

43 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

The American ammunition was now almost exhausted; 
their muskets were unprovided with bayonets. This time 
the British were able to push home their attack and, at the 
point of the bayonet, carry the intrenchments by storm. 

Burgoyne remained on Copp's Hill until the end of 
the battle and, in a letter to Lord Stanley, thus describes 
what he saw: 

"And now ensued one of the greatest scenes of war that 
can be conceived. . . . Howe's corps, ascending the hill 
in the face of intrenchments, and in a very disadvan- 
tageous ground, was much engaged; and to the left, the 
enemy pouring in fresh troops by thousands over the 
land; and in the arm of the sea, our ships and floating 
batteries cannonading them; straight before us a large 
and noble town in one blaze: the church steeples, being 
made of timber, were great pyramids of fire above the 
rest; behind us, the church steeples and heights of our 
camp covered with spectators. The enemy all anxious 
suspense; the roar of cannon, mortars, musketry; the 
crash of churches, ships upon the stocks, and whole streets 
falling together in ruin to fill the ear; the storm of the 
redoubts, with the objects above described, to fill the eye; 
and the reflection, that, perhaps a defeat was a final loss 
to the British Empire in America, to fill the mind, — 
made the whole a picture and complication of horror and 
importance, beyond anything that came to my lot to 
be a witness to. I much lament my nephew's absence; 
it was a sight for a young soldier that the longest service 
may not furnish again." 

Among some letters by British officers collected by 
Samuel Adams Drake, I found this one written by 

44 



AROUND BOSTON 

Adjutant Waller to his brother in England. It shifts 
us to a nearer point of view, and gives a picture of the 
storming of the redoubt, his battalion, the Royal Marines, 
according to Colonel Carrington's plan of the battle, 
having occupied the extreme left of the British line. 

"Camp of Charlestown Heights 
"22d. June, 1775. 

"My Dear Brother,— Amidst the hurry and confusion 
of a camp hastily pitched in a field of battle, I am sat 
down to tell you I have escaped unliurt, where many, so 
many, have fallen. The public papers will inform you 
of the situation of the ground and the redoubt that we 
attacked on the heights of Charlestown. I can only say 
that it was a most daring attempt, and that it was per- 
formed with as much gallantry and spirit as was ever 
shown by any troops in any age. 

"Two companies of the first battahon of marines and 
part of the 47th regiment, were the first that mounted 
the breastwork; and you will not be displeased when I 
tell you that I was with those two companies who drove 
their bayonets into all that opposed them. Nothing could 
be more shocking than the carnage that followed the storm- 
ing of this work. We tumbled over the dead to get at 
the hving. . . . The rebels had 5000 to 7000 men, cov- 
ered by a redoubt, breastworks, walls, hedges, trees, and 
the like; and the number of the corps under General 
Howe (who performed this gallant business) did not 
amount to fifteen hundred. We gained a complete vic- 
tory, and intrenched ourselves that night, where we lay 
under arms, in the front of the field of battle. ... I 
suppose, upon the whole, we lost, killed and wounded, 
from eight hundred to one thousand men. 

45 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

"We killed a number of the rebels, but the cover they 
fought under made their loss less considerable than it 
would otherwise have been. The army is in great 
spirits, and full of rage and ferocity at the rebellious 
rascals who both poisoned and chewed the musket-balls, 
in order to make them the more fatal." 

But the "rebellious rascals" did not disperse, nor was 
the "victory" so "complete" as Adjutant Waller thought. 
Instead, the patriots, encouraged by the battle, tightened 
their lines about Boston, and the city was more closely 
besieged than ever. 

On the 2d of July, by decision of Congress, General 
George Washington arrived at Cambridge to assume 
command of the American army. The simple ceremony 
attending his investment as commander-in-chief took 
place next day under the historic elm, now blasted and 
torn by hghtning, that still stands at the north end of 
Cambridge Common. Washington made his headquar- 
ters at Craigie House, which had been prepared for his 
reception, and which remains one of the landmarks of 
the college town, though now better known as the Long- 
fellow House. It is still occupied by the poet's eldest 
daughter, whose presence lends distinction to the old 
demesne. I shall not soon forget my visits to it, nor 
my pleasure and interest in seeing, with her and members 
of her family, the treasures of that mansion-house, so 
rarely marked by memories. 

Washington at once proceeded to strengthen his posi- 
tion. He fortified the heights about Cambridge — Pros- 

46 



AROUND BOSTON 

pect, Cobble, and I^loughed Hills— and extended his re- 
doubts as far as Winter Hill on (he left to the heights of 
Roxbury on the right. 'Jlien, one night in March, 1776, 
"with an expedition equal to tliat of the Genii l)elonging 




yicinity of the Washhu/ton Elm, Camhrirlge 



to Aladdin's lamp," to quote the words of a British ofTicer, 
the Americans threw up two redoubts on Dorchester 
Heights, a position of such importance that from it and 
from their battery on Nook's Hill over Boston Neck, 
they commanded both the city and the bay. 

47 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

The British admiral admitted that he could no longer 
"keep a ship in the harbor," and Howe's position in 
Boston became untenable. So, on the 17th of March, 
he embarked his army on a fleet of transports, and set 
sail for Halifax. Three days later Washington entered 
the streets of Boston at the head of his army, and was 
rapturously greeted by the patriotic citizens. 



48 



TICONDEROGA AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN 



TICONDEROGA AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN 

WHILE these events were taking place in and 
around Boston, the other colonies were also 
active. Only three weeks after the skir- 
mishes at Lexington and Concord, Ethan Allen took 
Ticonderoga. 

Our next pilgrimage, then, will be to the scene of this 
exploit — one of the most daring and spectacular in the 
early annals of the Revolution. Though born in Con- 
necticut, Ethan Allen migrated to the New Hampshire 
Grants at a very early age, and settled in Bennington. 
There, in pre-Revolutionary days, he used to frequent 
the Green Mountain Tavern (to which I shall have 
occasion to refer later) and in its tap-room he and Seth 
Warner cemented their friendship during the controver- 
sies over the New York border. 

At the outbreak of the Revolution they both longed 
to express their patriotism in some great deed of heroism, 
and the story of their hopes and of what they did is best 
told, I think, in Ethan Allen's own language — his "Nar- 
rative," * a document that gives us a fine glimpse of this 

* "Ethan Allen's Narrative of the Capture of Ticonderoga and of his 
Captivity and Treatment by the British." Written by himself (Benning- 
ton, 1849). In the preface to the fifth edition I find this statement by 
the senior publisher, Chauncy Goodrich: "It is given in the plain lan- 
guage of its self-educated author without any alteration. The senior pub- 
lisher has been intimately acquainted with his widow, who died about ten 
years since, and has been assured by her that this narrative is printed as 
he wrote it without alteration; and that it shows more of his true char- 
acter than all else ever written of him." 

51 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

blunt, honest patriot — not the ilhterate, coarse fellow he 
is sometimes depicted, but a frank, red-blooded fron- 
tiersman. His narrative is dated Rennington, March 
25th, 1779, so was written just after he returned from his 
captivity: 

"Ever since I arrived at the state of manhood, and ac- 
quainted myself with the general history of mankind, I 
have felt a sincere passion for liberty. The history of 
nations, doomed to perpetual slavery, in consequence of 
yielding up to tyrants their natural-born liberties, I read 
with a sort of philosophical horror; so that the first sys- 
tematical and bloody attempt at Lexington, to enslave 
America, thoroughly electrified my mind, and fully deter- 
mined me to take part with my country. And, while I 
was wishing for an opportunity to signalize myself in its 
behalf, directions were privately sent to me from the 
then colony (now state) of Connecticut, to raise the 
Green Mountain Roys, and, if possible, to surprise and 
take the fortress of Ticonderoga. 

"This enterprise I cheerfully undertook, and after first 
guarding all the several passes that led thither, to cut 
off all intelligence between the garrison and the country, 
made a forced march from Rennington, and arrived at 
the lake opposite Ticonderoga, on the evening of the 
ninth day of May, 1775 with two hundred and thirty 
valiant Green Mountain Roys, and it was with the ut- 
most difficulty that I procured boats to cross the lake. 
However, I landed eighty-three men near the garrison, 
and sent the boats back for the rear guard, commanded 
by Col. Seth Warner, but the day began to dawn, and I 
found myself under a necessity to attack the fort, before 
the rear could cross the lake." 

52 



TICONDEROGA 

He then harangued his men, explaining the danger of 
the enterprise, and, hke Pizarro, asked all who dared to 
follow him to "poise their firelocks." 

"The men being, at this time, drawn up in three 
ranks, each poised his firelock. I ordered them to face 
to the right, and at the head of the center file, marched 
them immediately to the wicket-gate where I found a 
sentry posted, who instantly snapped his fusee at me; I 
ran immediately toward him and he retreated through 
the covered way into the parade within the garrison, 
gave a halloo, and ran under a bomb-proof. My party, 
who followed me into the fort, I formed on the parade 
in such a manner as to face the two barracks which faced 
each other. 

"The garrison being asleep, except the sentries, we 
gave three huzzas which greatly surprised them. One 
of the sentries made a pass at one of my officers with a 
charged bayonet, and shghtly wounded him. My first 
thought was to kill him with my sword; but, in an in- 
stant, I altered the design and fury of the blow to a slight 
cut on the side of the head; upon which he dropped his 
gun, and asked quarter, which I readily granted him, 
and demanded of him the place where the commanding 
officer kept; he shewed me a pair of stairs in the front 
of a barrack, on the west side of the garrison, which led 
up a second story in said barrack, to which I immediately 
repaired, and ordered the commander, Capt. De La 
Place, to come forth immediately, or I would sacrifice the 
whole garrison; at which the Capt. came instantly to 
the door with his breeches in his hand; when I ordered 
him to deliver me the fort; he asked me by what au- 
thority I demanded it; I answered him 'In the name of 
the great Jehovah and the Continental Congress.' 

53 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

"The authority of the Congress being very little known 
at that time, he began to speak again; but I interrupted 
him, and with my drawn sword over his head, again de- 
manded an immediate surrender of the garrison; which 
he then complied, and ordered his men to be forthwith 
paraded without arms, as he had given up the garrison. 
In the mean time some of my officers had given orders 
and in consequence thereof, sundry of the barrack doors 
were beat down and about a third of the garrison im- 
prisoned, which consisted of the said commander, a Lieut. 
Feltham, a conductor of artillery, a gunner, two ser- 
geants, and forty four rank and file; about one hundred 
pieces of cannon, one thirteen inch mortar and a num- 
ber of swivels. 

"This surprise was carried into execution in the grey 
of the morning of the tenth of May, 1775. The sun 
seemed to rise that morning with a superior lustre; and 
Ticonderoga and its dependencies smiled on its con- 
querors, who tossed about the flowing bowl, and wished 
success to Congress, and the liberty and freedom of 
America. Happy it was for me, at that time, that the 
then future pages of the book of fate, which afterward 
unfolded a miserable scene of two years and eight months 
imprisonment, were hid from my view." 

Now that we have his story, let us visit the place. 
The ruins of old Fort Ticonderoga, the key to all the 
waterways at the south end of Lake Champlain, are still 
among the most impressive in our country. 

I have not visited them in some years — in fact, not 
since the time when I made the drawings that accompany 
this chapter. I have never wanted to go again, for the 
memory of that visit has been tinged with a flavor of 

54 



TICONDEROGA 

adventure and romance that, I feared, might be dispelled 
if I visited the locahty again under changed conditions. 
At that time I had noticed the advertisement of a sum- 
mer hotel near the old fort — an account that read most 
attractively — as these advertisements always do. 




The Ruins of I'orl I 



So, to stay at this hotel, we left the train at the sta- 
tion of Fort Ti, expecting to take the steamer across the 
lake. But, upon inquiry, the captain said: "That pier's 
rotten; I wouldn't risk my boat there for anything. 
And, besides, there's a sea running." "But how are we 
going to get across .-^ " I asked. "Oh, I guess you can 
get the station agent to row you over; he's got a boat." 

And with that he rang his engine-bell, and the steamer 

55 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

floated slowly north, settling down close upon the water, 
hke a big white duck. The train we had just left was 
flying toward the tail of the lake, leaving a billowy cloud 
of smoke behind it. The little station was deserted. 
Presently the agent appeared with our luggage. Yes, 
he'd take us "over the lake in about two hours." He'd 
his "dinner to eat and his job to finish." 

The two long hours slipped by in the shadow of Mount 
Defiance. Then he beckoned to us, and we descended 
to a little cove where a boat lay between the rocks. Our 
trunk, bags, and sketching outfit were loaded in the bow 
and we in the stern, and we pushed ofi*. He rowed a 
strong stroke, and, despite a head wind and the white- 











f^-''' r/^ 



Ruiim of the Officers Quarters at Ticonderoga 
56 



//"'I I 



TICONDEROGA 

caps, we soon could discern the ruins of the old fort 
and its bastions firmly planted on the rocks, with the 
walls of its barracks silhouetted against the sky. 

Our boatman had been most incommunicative. Fi- 
nally he headed for the shore and, with a vigorous stroke 
or two, drove the nose of the boat on a pebbly beach 
and dumped out our luggage. In a moment, still quite 
silent, he was off again, gliding over the lake, leaving us 
stranded like two pilgrims on a desert shore. Not a 
house nor habitation was in sight. 

We took our smaller belongings and walked up a path 
some three hundred yards or more, when, set in a fine 
grove of locust-trees, we made out a large white house — 
a great colonial mansion with tall columns to its central 
portico, and long wings at each side leading to end- 
pavilions. This was the summer hotel of wliich I had 
read. On entering, however, we found only a shiftless 
fellow in his shirt-sleeves in the vast corridor. "Yes, 
tills is the hotel; do you want a roomP" And he led 
us off to one of the end-pavilions and assigned us a large 
chamber. When we went in to dinner we found our- 
selves the only guests ! The shiftless one was the pro- 
prietor, and his wife the cook. 

Well, we stuck it out eight days. We had adventures, 
too. One night a party of drunken yachtsmen landed 
and fired pistols right and left to give vent to their en- 
thusiasm. There was not a lock or key to any of our 
doors, which gave directly on verandas, and we did not 
know at what moment these roisterers might make irrup- 

57 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

tion into our room. So I made barricades of bureaus 
and tables as the unsteady steps echoed up and down the 
empty corridors, at times approaching, then disappear- 
ing in dim distances, as with pistol-shots and loud huzzas 
they "tossed about the flowing bowl." 

The climax to our visit was reached upon the eighth 
day, when our proprietor announced, with some pertur- 
bation, that there would be no dinner as his wife had 
run away ! So he drove us to the train, and we proceeded 
to Port Henry and Crown Point. I have never heard 
what became of the hotel. 

Luckily, however, my drawings were completed. 
Luckily, also, we had lingered long enough, undisturbed, 
among the ruins to absorb their every detail. We had 
traced the underground passage (as you still may do) 
through which Ethan Allen led his men from the sally- 
port. We had found its orifice upon the parade-ground 
between the barracks. We had explored these "two 
barracks which faced each other," as Allen describes, 
and beyond had visited the old French lines of Fort 
Carillon. 

From the bastions, high above the river, we had en- 
joyed wide prospects. To the north stretched Lake 
Champlain, so narrow that we saw both banks, so long 
that it reached the far horizon. From the west the water- 
way came in from Lake George; toward the south and 
east, Mount Defiance and Mount Independence reared 
their wooded slopes, with the village of Ticonderoga lying 
at their feet, while, beyond, the hills of Vermont, dotted 

58 



T I C N D E R O G A 

with farms, stretched off to the hne of the distant Green 
Mountains. 

As the sun dropped and the shadows lengthened, how 
the past came back — especially in the moonhght, when 
a spirit of romance, born of the quiet of the night, hov- 
ered over the place, and the ghosts of its dead heroes 
seemed to walk again among the trees as the wind softly 
stirred their rustling leaves — the men of the French and 
Indian Wars — brave Montcalm, its commandant, who 
died so gloriously before Quebec; General Abercrombie 
and his gallant young lieutenant, the Viscount Howe; 
Rogers and Stark of the Rangers ; and Lord Jeffrey Am- 
hurst, who took the proud fortress from the French — 
then the men of '75: Ethan Allen, Seth Warner, Bene- 
dict Arnold, St. Clair, and Burgoyne ! So its ruined 
ramparts seemed to speak of gallant deeds. ... 

After Ethan Allen had seized the fortress, he sent 
Seth Warner to the north to capture Crown Point. This 
was done without trouble or bloodshed. Benedict Ar- 
nold, who had accompanied the enterprise, hot-headed 
and ambitious, now wished to make the conquest of 
Lake Champlain complete. So, with fifty men, he seized 
a schooner, mounted some guns upon it, and captured 
St. John's at the head of the lake, thus driving the last 
British soldier from its shores. 

Lake Champlain now remained undisputably in Ameri- 
can hands for nearly two years. A new star fort was 
built on the summit of Mount Independence, opposite 
Ticonderoga, and both places were well garrisoned. 

59 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

In March, 1777, Sir Guy Carletoii, the niihtary gov- 
ernor of Canada, received a message from London re- 
questing him to detach all the troops that he could spare, 
put them in charge of Lieutenant-General John Bur- 




Ruins of Old Fort Frederick, Crown Point 

goyne, and send them south "with all expedition" to 
Albany to join Sir Wilham Howe's forces, and "aid him 
in putting down the rebellion." 

Thus Burgoyne's campaign was launched — a campaign 
we shall now follow to its final issue on the plains of 
Saratoga. 

It was to proceed in two divisions. A smaller one, 
under Lieutenant-Colonel St. Leger was to go by way of 

60 



TICONDEROGA 

the Mohawk Valley (and we shall follow its movements 
later). The main column, with General Burgoyne him- 
self in command, was to move south by way of Lake 
Champlain. On the 12th of June Sir Guy Carleton re- 
viewed this proud army of invasion before he sent it forth 
upon its career. The picture that it made as it sailed 
down the placid waters of Lake Champlain is thus viv- 
idly described* by Thomas Anburey, a British officer who 
accompanied the expedition: 

"I cannot forbear picturing to your imagination one 
of the most pleasing spectacles I ever beheld. When 
we were in the widest part of the lake, whose beauty and 
extent I have already described, it was remarkably fine 
and clear — not a breeze was stirring — when the whole 
army appeared at one view in such perfect regularity as 
to form the most complete and splendid regatta you can 
possibly conceive. . . . 

"In the front the Indians went with their birch canoes, 
containing twenty or thirty in each; then the advanced 
corps in regular line with the gun-boats; then followed 
the Royal George and Inflexible, towing large booms 
which are to be thrown across two points of land, with 
the other brigs and sloops following; after them the 
first brigade in a regular fine, then the Generals Bur- 
goyne, Phillips and Riedesel in their pinnaces; next to 
them were the second brigade, followed by the German 
brigades; and the rear was brought up with the sutlers 
and followers of the army. LTpon the appearance of so 
formidable a fleet you may imagine they were not a 

* "Travels through the Interior Parts of America in a series of Letters." 
By an Officer. 

61 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

little dismayed at Ticonderoga, for they were apprised of 
our advance, as we every day could see their watch-boats." 

This splendid army consisted of more than seven 
thousand troops, commanded by efficient officers and 
provided with exceptional artillery. About half of its 
soldiers were German mercenaries. Its weak point, as 
we shall see, lay in its lack of pioneers, horses, and pro- 
visions for its transport. 

A prehminary camp was established on the Boquet 
River above Crown Point, and here in answer to a proc- 
lamation about four hundred Indians joined the expedi- 
tion. Thence an advance was made on Crown Point, 
which surrendered without opposition. The army then 
divided into two columns. One, the British troops 
under Brigadier-General Eraser, marched down the west 
shore of the lake; the other, the German troops under 
General Riedesel, followed the east shore; while Bur- 
goyne himself sailed with the fleet. 

The British column arrived before Ticonderoga on the 
1st of July, and on the following day the Americans 
abandoned the old French works, burned their defenses, 
and retired into the main fortress. Its garrison, as well 
as that upon the star fort on Mount Independence op- 
posite, was commanded by General Arthur St. Clair, 
who had under his orders a total of about twenty-five 
hundred continentals, and nine hundred poorly equipped 
militia. He decided that he could hold the fort, but only 
for a short time, as supplies, clothing, and military stores 
were all deficient. 

62 



TICONDEROGA 






General Schuyler, who commanded the Northern De 
partment, and had just inspected the defenses at Ticon 
deroga, also foresaw its probable downfall, for he wrote 
" The insufficiency of the 
garrison at Ticonderoga, 
the improper state of the 
fortifications, and the 
want of disciphne in the 
troops, give me great 
cause to apprehend that 
we shall lose that for- 
tress." 

His fears proved only 
too well-founded. Baron 
Riedesel's troops drew 
close about the foot of 
Mount Independence 
from the north and east, 
while the British, cross- 
ing to Sugar Loaf Hill, 
which had always been 
deemed inaccessible for 
artillery, in the dead of 
night, succeeded in plac- 
ing a battery upon its 
summit. This new posi- 
tion they called Fort Defiance, and from it they could 
command both Ticonderoga and Mount Independence 
from an elevation several hundred feet liigher than either. 

63 




JLq fit g f ::HnEB^t>TON 

;K*ASTlETON 

oco '••RBTIANB 

?-3KENCSBOaol 

WFt AN N #'^A LUN G F R B 



.•.-MANcnsTE?, 



SHAFTEJBVBY 



rBENNINCTaN 



i I 



Ma'p Ilhistrating Burgoynes 
Campaign 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

With their glasses, they could plainly watch the move- 
ments of every soldier in both forts. 

Under so startling a menace, a council of American 
officers decided it was best to evacuate while yet the south 
slope of Mount Independence was open for retreat. 

Lake Champlain, roughly speaking, is shaped like a 
thin fish swimming north, with two long ends to its 
tail. Lake George* is one of these ends; the other is a 
narrow waterway, South River, that extends down as 
far as Whitehall or Skenesborough, as it then was called. 
A temporary bridge of floats, protected by a boom of 
heavy timbers, clinched with bolts, had been built by 
the Americans to impede navigation into this south arm 
of the lake and to connect Fort Ticonderoga with Mount 
Independence. 

When the evacuation was decided upon, it was arranged 
that the Ticonderoga garrison would cross tliis bridge, 
and joining that of Fort Independence march by land to 
Skenesborough via Castleton. The baggage, ammuni- 
tion, and stores, with the invalids, under the escort of a 
battalion of troops under Colonel Long, was to go in 
batteaux to the same destination by the narrow south 
end of the lake. The retreat was to be effected during 
the night of the 5th of July. 

And now we have our second picture of Ticonderoga. 
The guns of the fort, to quiet suspicions, were keeping 
up a desultory fire upon the battery on Mount Defiance. 

* The old Indian name for Lake George was "Horican," or "Tail of the 
Lake." 

64 




TICOxNDEROGA 

Meanwhile, though a young moon was shining, the 
American garrison, at three in the morning, in stealthy 
silence, crossed the bridge unseen, and arrived at the 
foot of Mount Independence. The troops from the fort 
above came down 
to join them, but 
just at this critical 
moment some one, 
contrary to orders, 
set fire to the house 
of General de Fer- 
moy, commander of 
Fort Independence, 
and the flames, leap- 
ing aloft, revealed 
the American col- 
umns to the British 
sentries. 

The boats got off 
and the garrison 
marched away, but 

all knew that their ^'^V of Ticonderoga 

movements had been discovered. The British drums 
beat to arms. Quick orders rang in the night. When 
day broke all was astir, and a pursuit rapidly organized. 
General Fraser, with an advance corps of light infantry, 
started after the fleeing garrison. General Riedesel fol- 
lowing with his Germans. 

Meanwhile a passage had been cut through the boom 

65 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

and bridge, and the Rritish frigates moved with all 
speed down the South River, in pursuit of the Ameri- 
can shipping. It was a critical moment, and every one 
knew it. 



66 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
I 

TICONDEROGA TO FORT EDWARD 

FIRST we shall follow Burgoyne and his floating 
column to Skenesborough. So swiftly did he 
move, and so hotly did he pm:'sue Colonel Long 
and the American flotilla, that he reached the south end 
of the lake only two hours behind the Americans. These 
had had no time to organize, and, besides, what could they 
do against such a formidable enemy ? So, abandoning 
all hope of resistance, they set fire to the mills, shipping, 
dwellings, and to the stores that they had saved at such 
pains, and all went up together in one vast brasier, 
whose flames, mounting aloft, hcked up the mountain- 
side, devouring trees, shrubs, and houses, in one great 
conflagration. The little American column, meanwhile, 
hopelessly outnumbered, hastened onward to Fort Ann, 
eleven miles to the south. 

Burgoyne remained at Skenesborough for some time, 
waiting for General Fraser and organizing his advance. 
He stayed with Major Skene, a noted loyalist, from 
whom the town took its name, and who was able to give 
him much information about the country and the people, 
some of it, as events proved, of value, some of it not. 
Skenesborough is now called Whitehall. It is situated 

69 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

at the point where the south end of Lake Champlain is 
tapped by the Champlain Canal, that connects it with 
the Hudson River, thus affording an unbroken water- 
way from New York to Canada. The situation of the 
town is highly picturesque. A hill with a rounded top 
but very steep sides, well-wooded, rises abruptly above 
it, holding upon its declivities some of the buildings. A 
big, black cannon planted among them on a ledge, points 
its nose up the lake to remind you of the one-time im- 
portance of this strategic point. 

The main portion of the town clusters about the base 
of this hill, its shapely church spires telling handsomely 
against the green slopes behind them. The principal 
street, parked in places, borders the canal, whose locks 
are alive with tugs and barges. Reyond, long lines of 
freight-cars fill the railway yards and emphasize the con- 
sequence of this long waterway — the whole aspect of the 
place being strongly reminiscent of some busy canal town 
in Flanders: Dinan or Namur, for example. 

Rurgoyne's route to the Hudson is almost identical 
with that now followed by the Champlain Canal. Thus 
far all had gone well with him, and his success had equalled 
his most sanguine hopes. The first act of his drama — 
"the first period of this campaign," as he himself calls 
it — had ended brilHantly here at Skenesborough. In the 
second act his troubles were to begin — troubles that com- 
menced as soon as he left Major Skene's house. 

A fine state highway takes one to-day along the Cham- 
plain Canal, landing you finally, twenty-five miles away, 

70 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 

at Fort Edward. From it you obtain an excellent idea 
of the topography of the region through which Burgoyne 
now began this advance. At first the valley is quite 
narrow, hemmed in by a succession of wooded hills; 
then it widens enough to reveal the lofty hills that sur- 
round Lake George upon the one hand, and the distant 
Green Mountains on the other. 

A mile or two north of Fort Ann, the canal, railroad, and 
highway together penetrate a narrow defile, rocky and 
clothed only with stunted cedars. Here Colonel Long 
with his detachment, reinforced by troops sent forward 
by General Schuyler, made his first stand against the 
pursuing British. The Americans were almost successful 
in their defense, for at first they flanked their enemy, got 
in his rear, and "made a very vigorous attack, and they 
certainly would have forced us," states Major Forbes of 
of the Ninth, "had it not been for some Indians that 
arrived and gave the Indian whoop." This turned the 
tide, the Americans gave way, fell back to and burned 
Fort Ann, that was untenable before so strong an ad- 
versary, and retreated to Fort Edward, where they joined 
forces with General Schuyler's command. 

Fort Ann of to-day is a pleasant village, set on a hill- 
ock with nothing in particular, except its name, to dis- 
tinguish it from other villages in its vicinity. Beyond it, 
the valley widens out even more, until it becomes quite 
level, and rapidly takes on the characteristics of the 
broad Hudson valley, peaceful, pastoral, rather unculti- 
vated, with distant mountains lying along far horizons. 

71 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

In the days of the Revolution it was wooded, and 
Schuyler had used every artifice to impede his enemy's 
advance. Thomas Anburey writes: 

"The country between our late encampment at Skenes- 
borough and this place, was a continuation of woods and 
creeks, interspersed with deep morasses; and to add to 
these impediments, the enemy had very industriously 
augmented them, by felling immense trees, and various 
other modes, so that it was with the utmost pains and 
fatigue that we could work our way through them. Ex- 
clusive of these, the watery grounds and marshes were 
so numerous, that we were under the necessity of con- 
structing no less than forty bridges to pass them, and 
over one morass there was a bridge of near two miles in 
length." 

The Americans had also rounded up all the live stock 
of the region so that Rurgoyne's foraging parties brought 
him no supplies. This was striking the Rritish army in 
its weakest spot, for, as I have said, it was deficient in 
stores, and the farther it went from its bases, the more 
acute this problem became. 

The road from Fort Ann to Fort Edward takes us 
through the large modern town of Hudson Falls, above 
which is Glenn's Falls, where the Hudson, though now 
harnessed by machinery and almost screened by a new 
viaduct, tumbles in a series of broad cascades a distance 
of sixty feet. Reside these rushing waters, "in one place 
white as snow, in another green as grass," as Hawk-eye 
himself describes them, dwelt Uncas, last of the Mohicans, 

72 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 

for it was here, by the portages between the Hudson 
and the lakes, that Fenimore Cooper lays liis famous 
story. 

Having forced its way from the west through a series 
of rocky defiles, and having here made its impetuous 
descent, the Hudson turns abruptly to the south, and 
spreads out serene and placid as it takes its lazy way 
to the sea. 

Just below this sharp bend lay Fort Edward, that 
played so prominent a part in the annals of the French 
and Indian Wars. Now a modern town of some conse- 
quence covers its site. The star-shaped fort used to 
stand upon the east bank of the Hudson, high above the 
river, its ramparts protected by it as well as by Fort 
Edward Creek, wliich here flows in. 

After liis long struggle across the intervening country. 
Burgoyne came down to Fort Edward by way of Sandy 
Hill, at which place occurred the unfortunate murder of 
Jane M'Crea, that did so much to alienate loyalists and 
patriots alike from the British cause — an event that fits 
well into the setting of this country so linked with Indian 
myths and murders. The exact facts connected with 
Jane M'Crea's death have always been more or less 
shrouded in mystery, so that, around her tragic story, 
many fictions have been woven and many a harrowing 
tale been told. 

Anburey, in a letter, dated "Camp at Fort Edward," 
and written a few days after the tragedy, thus recounts 
the facts as he heard them: 

73 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

"To those who have been averse to our employing 
Indians, a melancholy instance was lately afforded that 
will sharpen their arguments against the maxim, and, as 
the matter will be greatly exaggerated, when the ac- 
counts of it arrive in England, I shall relate to you the 
circumstance, as it really happened. . . . 

"A young lady, upon the approach of our army, was 
determined to leave her father's house and join it, as a 
young man, to whom she was on the point of being mar- 
ried, was an officer in the provincial troops. Some In- 
dians, who were out upon a scout, by chance met her in 
the woods; they at first treated her with every mark of 
civility they are capable of and were conducting her into 
camp, when, within a mile of it, a dispute arose between 
the two Indians, whose prisoner she was, and words 
growing very high, one of them, who was fearful of losing 
the reward for bringing her safe into camp, most in- 
humanly struck his tomahawk into her skull, and she 
instantly expired. 

"The situation of the General whose humanity was 
much shocked at such an instance of barbarity, was very 
distressing and critical; for however inclined he might 
be to punish the offender, still it was hazarding the re- 
venge of the Indians, whose friendship he had to court 
rather than seek their enmity. . . . The General shewed 
great resentment to the Indians upon this occasion and 
laid restraints upon their dispositions to commit other 
enormities." 

Indeed, this incident pained Burgoyne exceedingly, 
and occasioned him no end of trouble. When reproached 
with it by General Gates, he sent this fine reply: " I could 
not be conscious of the foul deeds you impute to me for 

74 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 

the whole continent of America; though the wealth of 
worlds were in its bowels and a paradise upon its surface." 

In the latter part of July, he moved down from Sandy 
Hill to Fort Edward, where his soldiers, for the first time, 
beheld the Hudson, so long the goal of their desires. 
They were greatly heartened by this sight for their 
troubles now seemed nearing their end. 

Meanwhile General Schuyler, unable to face Bur- 
goyne with his scant army, had retired down the river 
and taken up his position near Stillwater, above the mouth 
of the Mohawk River, and not far from busy, present- 
day Mechanicsville. Both generals now busied them- 
selves with preparations for the conflict which seemed 
inevitable. And while they remain thus in close prox- 
imity, let us return to see what became of the garrison of 
Ticonderoga that started south through the mountains 
of Vermont. 



75 



II 

THE GREEN MOUNTAINS 

THIS quest wiU take us through the Green Moun- 
tain region — as dehghtful a motor trip as one 
could desire — the stretch from Rutland to 
Bennington, in particular, being a long succession of 
beautiful landscapes, framed with mountains whose con- 
tours reminded us, as our French chauffeur expressed 
it, of his own "native Pyrenees." Like the verdant 
Pyrenean slopes, they are wooded to their summits — 
whence their name. At their feet, knolls and hillocks 
are clothed with stately oaks, elms, and maples, to which 
now and then groves and clumps of hemlocks add a 
sombre note. But in the valleys the fields are lush 
and green, and aglow, especially in June, with the bright- 
est wild flowers. 

It was to these mountains of Vermont, as I have 
stated, that the Ticonderoga garrison escaped on its road 
to Castleton. But they were hotly pursued by Fraser's 
corps, while Riedesel, with his Hessians, followed close 
behind. The American main column, under St. Clair, 
pushed on rapidly — threading the narrow "intervales"' 
of the Green Mountains, whose mazes they knew so well, 
and attained Castleton in safety. 

76 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 

The rear-guard, however, under gallant Seth Warner, 
remained beliind at Hubbardton. Here, early on a hot, 
summer morning, they were overtaken by Fraser's troops 
and a fierce battle ensued. The Americans were so fa- 
vorably posted, and pom-ed such a well-directed fire into 
the British ranks that they would have carried the day 
had not Riedesel arrived at the opportune moment and, 
with flags flying and fifes playing, thrown his fresh troops 
into the conflict. The tide quickly turned, and the 
American defeat was complete. Their broken regiments 
fled in every direction — some over the mountains to 
Rutland; others to join their comrades at Castleton. 
When these latter reached St. Clair and told of their 
disaster, he collected every fugitive he could find and 
hastened forward to General Schuyler on the Hudson, 
joining him about five days later. 

Castleton to-day has an air of real distinction. It is 
set in a valley hemmed in by mountains of picturesque 
and fantastic contour. Many of its houses are very 
old. Porticos with tall, white columns alternate with 
simple clapboarded fronts to form an interesting main 
street that is shaded by noble ehns. Just as you leave 
it to proceed to Rutland, a tablet marks the site of Fort 
Warren, the scene of a conflict. 

Through a gateway formed by Mount Handy on the 
north and Mount Herrick on the south we now entered 
the valley of the Otter and Rutland lay before us, its 
tall church spires rising finely above the general mass 
of its buildings. We crossed a long bridge that spans 

77 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

the river and important railway yards, descended its 
main street — a busy thoroughfare — and drew up before 
the hotel. 

Rutland was always a favorite recruiting place for the 
Green Mountain Boys, as well as their haven of refuge 
after their forays. This fact is commemorated by a 
bronze statue by Porter that has recently been erected by 
the Daughters of the Revolution, up under the lofty trees 
that shade a handsome avenue in the residential district 
of the city. A powerful, manly fellow, clad in shirt and 
homespuns, stands upon a great pile of boulders that 
strongly suggests a mountain-top. His head is turned, 
and the action brings into play the big muscles of the neck 
and chest; his attitude is alert and vigilant; his pose 
striking and instinct with life; and it is indeed good to 
see, in so remote a locality, such a real contribution to 
the art that commemorates the Revolution. The simple 
inscription, too, is perfect: "To the Green Mountain 
Boys." 

From Rutland southward the road follows the Otter 
River, threading a beautiful valley, hemmed in between 
the Taconic Ridge on the one side and the main range 
of the Green Mountains on the other. The day we 
motored down it was showery, and gray clouds hung 
thick at times about the mountains, hiding one peak 
and revealing another; screening one range entirely and 
crawling over another in long, white filaments, that hung 
like ghosts among the trees, and by their air of mystery 
enhanced the sense of height. 

78 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 

At Walliiigford I noted a granite boulder by the church 
engraved with these words: "In memory of the Revolu- 
tionary soldiers who went from Walhngford." Reyond 
we passed the Nichols Farm that dates from 1778. Now 
and then we came upon important marble quarries, and 
frequently saw the sign "Maple and nut candy," that 
hinted at another industry of the countryside. 

Then we entered the main street of Manchester-in-the- 
Mountains, that alluring resort situated at the foot of 
Mount Equinox. Sidewalks of marble border the broad 
avenue, and towering elms of great age shade it. The 
white colonnades of the Equinox House— reminiscent of 
Jefferson's dream at the University of Virginia — invited 
us to hnger, as well as the mid-Victorian atmosphere of 
its spacious rooms, with their brocaded hangings and old- 
fashioned rosewood furniture. "Here in summer," in 
naive fashion says good Colonel Jack Graham, who 
wrote of Vermont in 1797, "the kind breezes, which 
whisper among the trees, and press between the moun- 
tains, refresh the weary traveller and render this place, 
if I may venture to use such an expression, the habita- 
tion of the Zephyrs." 

Rut despite these allurements, so real and so substan- 
tial, we remained firm to our purpose and pushed on to 
Rennington, our objective for the night. 

We soon reached Shaftesbury, beyond which we climbed 
quite a steep grade. Then from a summit we beheld, for 
the first time, the valley of Rennington lying spread be- 
neath us— a rarely beautiful landscape, built upon a 

79 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 



great scale and worthy the brush of Inness or of Con- 
stable. Lofty, purplish mountains, wreathed in clouds, 
enclosed a broad stretch of country whose undulations 
were clothed with stately trees. In the centre, the focal 
point of the picture, placed liigh upon an eminence, the 
tall shaft of the Bennington Monument shot upward, 
rising handsomely against the vast blue dome of Mount 
Anthony. 

We passed by an outlying village or two, and then, 
at the very door of the city, as it were, were treated to a 
novel sight— a deer (it was nearing sunset) leaping the 
fences, one after another, and even the railway tracks, 

as he made for the depths of the 
woods beyond. Then we ob- 
tained a near view of the monu- 
ment, and of Mount Anthony, 
finely silhouetted against the 
western sky, where the clouds 
were now breaking, arid shafts 
of light shot forth, giving promise 
for the morrow. 

We drew up before the home- 
like W alloomsac Inn, on the hill, 
not far from the monument, 
and a few minutes later were 
dining in a charming home near 
by and talking of Bemiington, 
its history and its attractions. 
The town certainly possesses 
80 



<l^ i 







Battle Monument, Benninijton 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 

that evanescent something that we call "atmosphere." 
Its modern section, to be sure, at the foot of the hill, 
with the shops and newer dwelhngs, is not particularly 
attractive; but the old quarter, up above, is still to a 
remarkable degree redolent of other days. Most of its 
houses are a century old, and many are, architecturally, 
of great inter- 
est, with their 
pilastered cor- 
ners, delicate 
dentillated cor- 
nices, fanlights, 
and well-spaced 
window open- 
ings. 

Directly op- 
posite the inn 
stands a hand- 
some church, 
and up the shaded avenue the soaring monument ap- 
pears. There is scarcely a house on Monument Avenue 
that has not weathered its hundredth winter. Half-way 
up it a bronze catamount marks the site of the Green 
Mountain Tavern, to which I have alluded in a pre- 
ceding chapter as the place in which Ethan Allen and 
Seth Warner planned their attack upon Ticonderoga. 
Crouched upon its sign-board, a stuffed catamount used 
to snarl toward New York State, with which the New 
Hampshire Grants were then in controversy concerning 

81 




The Catamount Tavern, now 
completely destroyed 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

the boundary. From this sign the place became known 
as the Catamount Tavern. To it, after his thrilHng ad- 
ventures and liis visit to Washington at Valley Forge, 
Ethan Allen returned, arriving, as he further recounts 
in Ills "Narrative," upon 

"the evening of the last day of May to their [the Green 
Mountain Boys'j surprise, for I was thought to be dead, 
and now my joy and theirs was complete. Three cannon 
were fired that evening and next morning, Colonel Mer- 
rick gave orders, and fourteen more were discharged, 
welcoming me to Bennington, my usual place of abode; 
thirteen for the United States and one for young Vermont. 
"After this ceremony was ended, we moved the flow- 
ing bowl, and rural fehcity, sweetened with friendship, 
glowed in each countenance, and with loyal healths to 
the rising States of America, concluded that evening 
and with the same loyal spirit, I now conclude my nar- 
rative." 

His friend, Seth Warner (done in granite, I am sorry 
to say), stands upon a pedestal at the head of the avenue, 
directly in front of the gigantic monument that commem- 
orates the Battle of Bennington, a mighty shaft, not, 
strictly speaking, a work of art, but certainly most impres- 
sive, dominating an extended landscape of great beauty. 

Upon the ground where it stands there was a store- 
house in the days of the Revolution. When Burgoyne 
reached Fort Edward liis need of supplies and horses 
became very acute. On August 6, he records: "At ten 
o'clock this morning, not quite enough provisions for 
the consumption of two days." Major Skene, who ac- 

82 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 

companied him, knew of this storehouse at Bennington, 
and that in it were collected great quantities of military 
supplies. He also persuaded Burgoyne that there were 
many Tories in the district who were only too anxious 
to join the British forces if he would but send an expedi- 
tion in their direction. 

This Burgoyne now resolved to do. He selected 
Colonel Baume to carry out his purpose, and sent him 
with about five hundred men, mostly Hessians, to collect 
horses to mount the dragoons and to seize the stores at 
Bennington. 

Meanwhile the Green Mountain Boys had been gath- 
ering to watch liis movements, and when this expedition 
started out they hastily organized. John Stark, who 
held no regular commission in the American army at that 
time, was persuaded to lead them, and he sent word to 
Seth Warner, at Manchester, asking him to co-operate 
as speedily as possible. The improvised army quickly 
collected at Bennington and marched forthwith to meet 
Baume's column. 

The Hessians had advanced to within a few miles of 
Bennington, but when they heard that important forces 
were coming out to meet them they intrenched them- 
selves upon a steep hill situated in a bend of the Wal- 
loomsac River. Riedesel's dragoons and the Rangers 
were posted upon the top of this hill, while Baume's other 
troops took up positions down by a ford, with the Ca- 
nadians and Tories thrown out across the stream as out- 
posts on the Bennington Road. 

83 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

Stark led his men to a spot a little farther up the river, 
where a stone now marks his camp — a stone graven with 
his well-known words: "There are the red-coats; and 
they are ours, or this night Molly Stark sleeps a widow." 
From this place of encampment, on the morning of the 
16th of August, he led forth his men. He sent Colonel 
Hubbard and Colonel Stickney against the troops sta- 
tioned at the ford ; Colonel Herrick marched his regiment 
around to the back of the hill; Colonel Nichols was sta- 
tioned to the east, while Stark reserved for himself the 
main assault up the steep declivity. All the attacks 
were delivered with precision and exceeding vigor. The 
British outposts were forced in and driven up the hill 
until the various American regiments, uniting from all 
sides at once, stormed the breastworks on the top with 
conspicuous gallantry. Though Baume's picked troops 
were stationed here, they were soon overcome and Baume 
himself mortally wounded. 

Stark, in his report to the Council of New Hampshire, 
thus sums up the further progress of the battle: 

"Our people behaved with the greatest spirit and 
bravery imaginable. Had they been Alexanders or 
Charleses of Sweden they could not have behaved better. 

"The action lasted two hom"s; at the expiration of 
which time we forced their breastworks at the muzzle of 
their guns; took two pieces of brass cannon, with a num- 
ber of prisoners; but before I could get them into proper 
form again, I received intelligence that there was a large 
reenforcement within two miles of us, on the march, 
which occasioned us to renew our attack; but, luckily 

84 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 

for us, Colonel Warner's regiment came up, which put a 
stop to their career. We soon ralhed, and in a few min- 
utes, the action became very warm and desperate, which 
lasted until night. We used their cannon against them, 
which proved of great service to us. 

"At sunset, we obliged them to retreat a second time; 
we pursued them till dark, when I was obliged to halt 
for fear of killing our men." 

Congress, having passed over Stark before, now com- 
missioned him a full brigadier-general, and the State of 
Massachusetts voted him "a complete suit of clothes 
becoming his rank, together with a piece of linen." 

The day after our arrival in Bennington we set out 
to visit the battle-ground which hes about six miles to 
the west of the city, near the town of North Hoosick. 
Before reaching it we came upon a sign that indicates 
the site of the house to which Colonel Baume was taken 
and in which he died. From a point just above this, 
where a power-house stands by a railway embankment, 
you gain, I think, the best idea of the battle-field as a 
whole. 

Directly in front of you rises the steep hill upon which 
the dragoons and Rangers were posted with the Walloom- 
sac skirting its base. From the other side of the em- 
bankment you can see a great maple-tree that stands 
by the ford which the Canadians defended, and from the 
top of the hill you look down on the positions taken by 
the American militia: Herrick to the north, Nichols to 
the east, Stickney and Hubbard to the south. 

85 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

Somewhere I found this poetic version of the view 
from this hilltop, penned by a romantic Hessian, who 
escaped capture by fleeing to the forest he describes: 

"The fields looked green and refreshed (after a night 
of rain) the river was swollen and tumultuous and the 
branches were all loaded with dew-drops wliich ghttered 
in the sun's rays, like so many diamonds. Nor would it 
be easy to imagine any scene more rife with peaceful or 
even pastoral beauty. Looking down from this summit 
of the rising ground, I beheld immediately beneath me a 
wide sweep of stately forest, interrupted at remote in- 
tervals by green meadows or yellow cornfields, whilst 
here and there, a cottage, a shed, or some primitive edi- 
fice reared its modest head, as if for the purpose of re- 
minding the spectator, that man had begun his inroads 
upon nature, without as yet taking away from her sim- 
plicity and grandeur." 

Except that the "green meadows and yellow corn- 
fields" are now more extensive and the forests of smaller 
size than formerly, his description of this view quite fits 
it to-day, and well conveys the charm of this Walloomsac 
Valley, The l)attle-field, I hear, has recently been ac- 
quired by the State, and a monument is to be erected 
upon the historic hill where Stark's New Englanders 
made the first successful attack of the war upon an in- 
trenched enemy. 

His victory, so complete and so substantial, was most 
heartening to the patriots and greatly strengthened their 
cause; while to Burgoyne it was a bitter blow, frustrat- 
ing all his hopes of replenishing his supplies. 

86 



Ill 

THE MOHAWK VALLEY 

ON almost the same day that saw this British 
expedition defeated at Bennington St. Leger's 
column reached the end of its career up in the 
Mohawk Valley. In my chapter on Ticonderoga I al- 
luded to this expedition, explaining that it was to invade 
New York State from the west, descending by way of 
the Mohawk to join Burgoyne at Albany, 

It had successfully ascended the St. Lawrence River 
to Lake Ontario, crossed that lake, moved up the Oswego 
and Oneida Rivers to Oneida Lake, and from Sylvan 
Beach had made its way up Fish Creek, so that at the 
beginning of August it was but a short portage from the 
Mohawk. 

On the Mohawk River, where the city of Rome now 
stands, was the principal American outpost in the Mo- 
hawk Valley, Fort Stanwix. This fort had just been 
strengthened and renamed, in honor of the general of 
the Northern Department, Fort Schuyler. It was com- 
manded by Colonel Peter Gansevoort, who, with rein- 
forcements that had just reached him, had a garrison of 
about a thousand men. 

87 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

It is indeed difficult for the traveller who journeys 
nowadays down the Mohawk Valley in a Pullman car 
to picture it as it was in the days of the Revolution. 
Its broad fields and well-tilled acres, its peaceful villages 
and thriving towns in no way even remotely suggest the 
pathless forests that then clothed the banks of the river, 
affording safe hiding-places for the cruel savages that 
infested them — the red men that played so conspicuous 
a part in the Revolutionary history of this wild district. 
In these forests the ferocious tribesmen depicted by 
Fenimore Cooper had free rein for the practice of their 
barbarous warfare, and they and the Tories of the region, 
particularly numerous and particularly bitter, vied with 
each other in deeds of cruelty. 

St. Leger was taking advantage of these circumstances 
and was using the Indians and Tories in great numbers, 
allowing the former the practice of their savage customs, 
the unrestrained use of the scalping-knife and tomahawk. 

When he finally left his boats at Fish Creek and started 
tlirough the forest to invest Fort Schuyler, he organized 
liis column in masterly fashion. A diagram of his plan 
of march was afterward found among the papers in his 
writing-desk, and shows liis troops thus ingeniously dis- 
posed: first came five files of Indians, walking singly, 
spaced well apart and flanking the British flag. These 
were led by Joseph Brant, a full-blooded Mohawk, whose 
Indian name, Thayendanega, signified strength; a savage 
fighter, noted for his many cruelties, but so shre\Ad, 
withal, and of such conspicuous ability that he held a 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 

colonel's commission from the British king. More than 
fom- hundred paces beliind these Indians came the ad- 
vanced guard, and a hundred paces beliind these the two 
main columns of regulars, also in single file, with files of 
Indians flanking them to the right and left, as well as 
covering their rear. By this clever disposition, protected 
on all sides by a curtain of redskins, St. Leger was able 
to march through the pathless forest without fear of am- 
buscade or surprise of any kind. 

He arrived before Fort Schuyler on the 3d of August, 
with his strange array of British regulars, Hessian chas- 
seurs, Canadians, Royal Green Tories, and warriors from 
all the tribes of the Six Nations. He instantly sum- 
moned the garrison to surrender under dire threats of re- 
prisal. Gansevoort indignantly refused, and sat tight 
behind his breastworks. So St. Leger drew in his lines 
and laid siege to the fortress, the Indians keeping up a 
hideous howling tliroughout the night to intimidate the 
garrison. 

Meanwhile General Nicholas Herkimer, who lived 
farther down the valley in an old brick house still stand- 
ing, had called up the militia of Try on County to organize 
and hasten to the relief of Fort Schuyler. They eagerly 
responded, collecting at Fort Dayton, in the German 
Flats, where the thriving town of Herkimer now stands. 

Herkimer sent a messenger to Gansevoort apprising 
him of his movements, and requesting the commander of 
the fort to co-operate by making a sortie upon liis ap- 
proach. He then advanced beyond Utica and there 

89 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

awaited the three signal-guiis that were to tell him that 
liis messenger had arrived in safety at the fort. This 
messenger, however, was delayed for a whole day or more, 
and some of Herkimer's younger officers, impetuous and 
impatient, wanted to move on. The old man tried to 
restrain them, but under their repeated taunts — they 
called him a coward and a Tory — he finally gave in and, 
against his own good judgment, ordered an advance. 

St. Leger, informed of Herkimer's approach, sent forth 
a strong column, composed largely of Tory troops and 
Indians, under Brant, to waylay him en route and en- 
trap him in an ambush. For this purpose Brant selected 
a ravine near Oriskany, about eight miles east of Fort 
Schuyler, He disposed his troops and his Indians in 
a wide circle, completely hidden by the dense woods, 
leaving only the road from LItica open. 

Into this sort of funnel the unsuspecting Americans 
marched on a dark, sultry morning, crossing the marshy 
bottom of the ravine by means of a narrow causeway of 
earth and logs, where the road in the foreground of my 
picture now traverses the hollow. When the marching 
column was well within the trap, Brant gave the signal, 
the circle tightened and closed in, and from every side, 
with war-whoop, spear, and tomahawk, the Indians 
sprang forth, while the British troops poured in a hot 
fire from the cover of the woods. 

At first the Americans were dismayed by this sudden 
onslaught, but under brave, cool Herkimer's leadership 
they quickly rallied and desperately defended themselves. 

90 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 

Their general was soon severely wounded but, propped 
against a tree, continued to give his clear, calm orders. 
The Americans now formed into circles so as to face 
their encircling foes, and were fighting with the greatest 
obstinacy and bravery, when the clouds that had been 
gathering heavily all morning suddenly, with a terrific 
peal of thunder, broke into a torrent of rain. The firing 
ceased as both sides sought shelter for a while and pre- 
pared for a second trial of strength. 

Johnson's Greens, a Tory regiment recruited in the 
district, now came up to reinforce the British. The 
sight of these men, many of whom were their neighbors 




The Ravine near Orislcany 



91 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

and erstwhile friends, infuriated the Americans to such a 
degree that, as soon as the rain had ceased, they leaped 
upon their enemies in a fierce hand-to-hand encounter, 
fighting venomously with bayonets and knives. The 
struggle now became imbued with all the bitterness of 
civil warfare and was one of the fiercest and, in pro- 
portion to the numbers engaged, the bloodiest of the 
war. 

But now the Indians, seeing many of their number 
lying prone upon the ground, while the patriots still held 
firm, began to give way and, yelling, fled to the woods. 
The Tories and Canadians soon followed their example 
and retreated in confusion, with the Americans in hot 
pursuit. But the patriots were too weakened in num- 
bers to push on, or to continue their march to the fort, 
so they, too, fell back toward Fort Dayton, carrying their 
wounded with them. Among these was gallant Herkimer, 
who died a few days later in his own house. 

During tliis battle the garrison of Fort Schuyler had 
made its sortie, as prearranged; and, though it succeeded 
in capturing much plunder, including six British flags, 
it failed, of course, to unite with the relief column. St. 
Leger now again demanded a surrender. Gansevoort's 
answer was a flat refusal, so St. Leger began to push for- 
ward his parallels. 

Gansevoort then sent messengers to General Schuyler, 
asking for aid, and these, after many hardships, succeeded 
in reaching the commander at Stillwater, where we left 
him encamped. He quickly assumed the responsibility 

92 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 

of sending a relief force, even at the risk of weakening his 
own scant army, and Arnold volunteered to command it. 
Rumors of its advance and of its strength, these latter 
exaggerated, now reached St. Leger. The Indians, too, 
heard these reports and wanted to retreat, so they 

*' artfully caused messengers to come in one after another, 
with accounts of the near approach of the rebels; one 
and the last affirmed that they were within two miles of 
Captain Lernoult's post." When their stories were not 
entirely credited "they grew furious and abandoned; 
seized upon the officers' hquor and cloaths in spite of the 
efforts of their servants and became more formidable 
than the enemy we had to expect." * 

Finally they fled in all directions, and the British com- 
mander, believing Arnold's force near, suddenly in the 
dead of night lifted the siege and, abandoning his artil- 
lery and baggage, retreated precipitately to Oswego. 

Thus the Mohawk Valley expedition met its fate on 
almost the same day that witnessed the British defeat at 
Bennington, and as the British Annual Register rightly 
observes : 

"The Americans represented this affair and the affair 
at Bennington as great and glorious victories. Nothing 
could excel their exultation and confidence. Gansevoort 
and Willet, with General Stark and Colonel Warner, 
who had commanded at Bennington, were ranked among 
those who were considered as the saviours of their coun- 
try." 

* Report of Lieutenant-Colonel Barry St. Leger, dated Oswego, August 
27, 1777. 

93 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

At Oriskany there is little but the lay of the land to 
remind one of the savage struggle that took place in the 
depths of the forest. A monument commemorates the 
battle, but the field whereon it took place has lost its 
forests, and is now rolling country dotted only here and 
there with trees. No vestige remains of Fort Schuyler 
in the busy present-day city of Rome, and no trace of 
Fort Dayton is to be found at Herkimer. 

But the flavor of these Revolutionary conflicts lingers 
in the valley for him who will seek it out. This is espe- 
cially true farther down near the thriving town of Her- 
kimer, which, as I have said, stands upon the site of old 
Fort Dayton, where Herkimer organized his expedition 
for the rehef of Fort Schuyler. 

His father, John Jost Herkimer, who had come to the 
Mohawk Valley from the Lower Palatinate on the Rliine, 
was one of the oldest residents of the German Flats, as 
this district is called, and had built himself a stone 
house, since destroyed, which was included in the stock- 
aded area of Fort Herkimer, that stood in a fine position 
on the south side of the river, about a mile and a half 
east of Fort Dayton. Also within these stockades stood 
the old Stone Church that I have drawn — a stout edifice, 
almost a fortress in itself, originally but one story high, 
the masonry about the windows plainly showing the 
addition to its walls. It was built by the Lutheran 
settlers of the region, and its services were always con- 
ducted in German. 

In these surroundings the Revolutionary patriot grew 

94 







f* 



^^-:^ 





Old Stone Church at 
German Flats 

It was built in 1767 and formed 
part of the stockade defense of 
Fort Herkimer, and was often 
vsed as a place of refuge from 
the raids of Tories and Indians 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 

up and remained until his father gave him "five hundred 
acres whereon he built a fine residence on the south bank 
of the river below the Little Falls." 

Below the town of Herkimer the valley narrows and 
exchanges its pastoral aspect for that of a rugged gorge, 
in which the city of Little Falls stands beside the cas- 
cades of the river. From this place I found it was but 
a short drive to Danube, where this Herkimer house still 
stands, close by the south bank of the river — a big, 
sturdy edifice built of brick and still retaining much of 
its old-time character. It was from this homestead that 
the brave old general started out for Oriskany, and to it 
that he was afterward carried, wounded, to die, some 
say through the carelessness of an unskilled doctor, who 
might have saved him from the hemorrhage that killed 
him. 

He lies on a hillock just behind the house in a little 
family burying-ground. His grave is the one marked with 
a flag in my drawing, and to the right of it appears the 
base of the monument erected to his memory. 

A mile or two below the Herkimer house lies Castle 
Church, one of those houses of worship due to the 
generosity of Sir WilUam Johnson. In this mission 
church Brant, the Mohawk leader, who lived near by, 
received his first lessons from Kirkland and other mis- 
sionaries, and here he was employed as an interpreter to 
give instruction to his tribesmen. But at the beginning 
of the Revolution he espoused the British cause; all his 
teachings were forgotten and his innate savagery burst 

97 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

forth again as he led his fierce warriors upon their bloody 
forays against the Whig settlers of the region. 

Farther down the valley, but still upon the river, lies 
Fonda, which is the most convenient point upon the 
railroad from wliich to visit Johnson Hall. 






\m 



d-t 





General Herkimer's House and Grave 

This great baronial manor was, up to the time of the 
Revolution, the most important house in the Province 
of New York outside of New York City. It was built 
by Sir William Johnson in 1760, and in it the baronet 
lived like a feudal lord with his "wives and concubines, 
sons and daughters of different colors." One of these 
wives was Mary Brant, sister of the Mohawk chieftain. 

Sir William was handsome and dignified, and his 
haughty manners and fine speeches so won the Indians 

98 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 

to him that he possessed a remarkable ascendancy over 
them, to which is largely due their loyalty to the British 
cause during the Revolution. He died in 1774, very 
suddenly, in his sixtieth year, and his funeral was the 




Castle Church, near Danube 



most elaborate that the colonists of the region had ever 
witnessed, nearly two thousand mourners, including all 
the colonial dignitaries and Indian sachems, accompany- 
ing the funeral procession. 

He was succeeded in his lands and titles by his son. Sir 
John, a man of much smaller calibre, who fled to Canada 
at the outbreak of the Revolution, and whose lands were 
then sequestrated. To this is to be ascribed his implaca- 

99 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

ble hatred of the patriots, as well as that of his friend 
Brant, whose enmity toward the Whig settlers of the 
valley was unrelenting. 

Johnson Hall has retained much of its original aspect. 
The manor-house has been somewhat disfigured by the 
addition of bay windows, porches, and a "cupola," but 
its simple, original lines are still plainly visible. It is 
flanked by stone blockhouses of very solid structure, 
pierced, just under the roofs, by loopholes for muskets. 
When Sir William occupied it, the residence and these 
blockhouses were surrounded by a twelve-foot breast- 
work, thus constituting a veritable fortress. 

After its sequestration Johnson Hall was owned for 
many years by successive members of the Wells family, 
and was still inhabited, when I was last there, by a mem- 
ber of that family. On the stair rail in the hall are regular 
marks, cut with a hatchet, which are said to have been 
made by Brant as a signal to the Indians neither to pil- 
lage nor burn the house of his friend. 

In Johnstown, the nearest township to the hall, still 
stand the court-house and the old stone jail, that up to 
the time of the Revolution were the only places for the 
administration of justice west of Albany. 



100 



IV 

SARATOGA 

WE left Burgoyiie stationed upon the Hudson 
at Fort Edward. By the defeat of his 
Bennington expedition, and the dispersal 
of St. Leger's troops in the Mohawk Valley, the second 
act of liis drama — begun so auspiciously on Lake Cham- 
plain — was now ending with heavily clouded skies. 

Unfortunate commander ! One cannot but pity him 
— this high-strung soldier-poet who, through no fault of 
his own, saw with each advance his line of communica- 
tion grow thinner and weaker; who listened in vain for 
an encouraging word of the advance of General Howe 
from the south — the man he had been despatched to 
join; who felt the toils tightening about him; who saw 
his own army dwindle with each reverse, while liis enemy's 
grew stronger daily. 

For, inspirited by their victories at Oriskany and Ben- 
nington, the militia was flocking into Schuyler's camp 
at Stillwater, while several regiments of Continentals, 
despatched from the Highlands, also joined him. All 
seemed to augur the success of his deep-laid plans. At 
this crucial moment, when these plans seemed upon the 
very point of fruition, General Schuyler — able and ardent 

101 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

patriot, the only one of his generals for whom Washing- 
ton signed himself "your affectionate friend" — suddenly 
found himself, through Congressional intrigue and cabal, 
superseded as commander of the Northern Department 
by Horatio Gates, the schemer and ambitious politician. 

Without a word of protest, like the gentleman he was, 
he handed over his command to his successor, to whom 
Congress now allowed all that it had refused to him. 
Morgan's famous riflemen were sent to Stillwater, where 
the Americans had laid out their camp, and intrenched 
it under Kosciusko's direction. 

By the beginning of September the main armies 
were about to confront each other, for Burgoyne had ad- 
vanced down the Husdon as far as Batten Kill and was 
preparing to cross the river, Thomas Anburey, the 
British officer whom I have before quoted, writes: 

"The bridge of boats was soon constructed and thirty 
days provisions brought up for the whole army. On the 
13th instant, we passed Hudson's River, and encamped 
on the plains of Saratoga, at which place there is a hand- 
some and commodious dwelling-house, with out-houses, 
an exceeding fine saw and grist-mill, and, at a small dis- 
tance, a very neat church, with several houses round it, 
all of which are the property of General Schuyler." 

This collection of houses, then called Saratoga, now 
forms part of Schuylerville, a town upon the Hudson 
about eleven miles from Saratoga Springs, with which it 
is connected by a fine State road. The "handsome and 
commodious dwelhng-house " was burned during the 

102 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 

battle that ensued, but it was quickly replaced by an- 
other that still stands almost hidden by the trees, just 
over the bridge that spans the Fishkill near Victory Mills, 
where the stream tumbles, in a series of cascades, into the 
great, calm Hudson. 




The Home of General Philip Schuyler at Old Saratoga 



Tliis Schuyler House, though still occupied, has the 
air of a haunted manse. We had been informed, before 
visiting it, that no one was at home. Yet on peering 
through one of the windows, I was startled to perceive, 
hobbling about on two canes, across the kitchen floor, an 
elderly woman, bent and feeble, but with eyes so bright 
and piercing, and a chin so long and sharp, as to recall 
some aged witch of old — a figure singularly befitting this 
house so fraught with memories. 

103 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

The British encamped around this spot, near the Fish- 
kill, on the 14th of September, 1777, and only a few miles 
of woodland now separated the two hostile armies. 

I present the following quaint extracts from the "Jour- 
nal" of Elijah Fisher, a native of Norton, Massachusetts, 
and later a member of Washington's hfe-guard, first, be- 
cause it is a good summary of the events of the month 
that followed, and, second, because it is such a curious 
example of the orthography of an American soldier of 
the period : 

''Sept. 19th. The Enemy made an at tact on the Left 
wing of our army and the Engagement was l)egun at 
half past two in the afternoon by Col. Morgan's Riflemen 
and Lite Infintry — . . . 

" Oct. 1th. We had the secent Engagement begun at one 
in the afternoon and the Enemy got wosted and our 
army Drove them and took Gen. Bergoine's adecamp 
and the General's Doctor and five hundred tents and 
five hundred Prisoners officers and solgers and Drove the 
others. . . . 

" The 8th. The next Day Gen. Gates gave the Enemy 
three Days to git off with themselves. . . . 

" The llth. Gen Burgoin and his howl army surrendered 
themselves Prisoners of Ware and Come to Captelate 
with our army and Gen. Gates," 

Such is an abstract of the Battles of Saratoga. Now 
let us look at them in more detail, and visit the fields 
whereon they took place. 

"On the nineteenth [of September]" says Anburey, 
*'the army marched to meet the enemy in three divisions; 

104 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 

the German line flanked the artillery and baggage pur- 
suing the course of the [Hudson] river through the 
meadows; the British line marched parallel to it at some 
distance through the woods forming the center division, 
whilst the advanced corps, with the grenadiers and light 
infantry of the Germans made a large circuit through the 
woods and composed the right hand division. 

"The signal guns for all the colunms to advance were 
fired between one and two o'clock." . . . 

Here we have the advance to the first battle of Sara- 
toga — Riedesel's left wing by the river, the main British 
column in the centre, Fraser's advanced corps on the right. 

The Americans fu-st came in contact with Fraser's 
corps, and by three o'clock the main action was centring 
round Freeman's Farm, a house advantageously placed 
upon a hillock. About it the battle ebbed and flowed, 
eddying back and forth between two ravines that lead 
down toward the river. The Americans "behaved with 
great obstinacy and courage," says the Earl Balcarras, 
their enemy, and they held their own for some time, 
until, at the critical moment, General Riedesel was able 
to bring his troops up from the river into the main 
action, and with the cannon of Captain Pauscli (whose 
Journal, by the way, gives us an excellent description of 
the battle) did much to decide the final issue of this first 
conflict, the results of which Anburey thus sums up : 

"Just as the evening closed in, the enemy gave way on 
all sides and left us masters of the field, but darkness 
prevented a pursuit. . . . 

105 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

"Notwithstanding the glory of the day remains on 
our side, I am fearful the real advantages resulting from 
this hard fought battle will rest with the Americans, our 
army being so much weakened by this engagement as 
not to be of sufficient strength to venture forth and im- 
prove the victory." 

Such indeed proved the case. For a fortnight or more, 
the two armies lay watching each other, like two giants 
preparing for a death-grapple, yet awaiting a propitious 
first hold. Then the British could afford to delay no 
longer. To remain in camp was to starve. So, at all 
costs, Burgoyne determined to try to force his way 
through Gates's army and reach Albany. 

On the 7th of October he moved forward again, and a 
second desperate battle ensued over practically the same 
terrain as the first engagement. The Americans at- 
tacked the entire British line as soon as the action be- 
gan. Under the impact of their furious onslaughts even 
the British grenadiers wavered. Gallant Eraser tried, 
for a long time, to steady his men, but, despite his 
efforts, before the repeated attacks of Morgan's riflemen 
— those stanch backwoodsmen — the British lines began 
to break. 

At this juncture Arnold, who had had a quarrel with 
Gates and resigned his commission dashed, like one in- 
toxicated, with impetuous fury to the head of his former 
troops and, cheered to the echo, led them like a whirl- 
wind upon the broken lines of the British left. Eraser, 
trying to withstand the shock, was mortally wounded. 

106 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 

Arnold, too, pushing into the very heart of Breyman's 
redoubt, was severely wounded just as the battle finished 
in complete victory for the patriots, 

Thomas Anburey was on camp duty that day, so saw 
nothing of the battle itself, but he thus graphically de- 
scribes the beginning of the end, as his comrades began to 
return : 

"Nor can you conceive the sorrow visible on every 
face as General Fraser was brought in wounded, your old 
friends, Campbell and Johnston, of our regiment, on each 
side of his horse, supporting liim. . . . 

"Early in the morning General Fraser breathed his 
last and at his particular request, was buried without any 
parade, in the great redoubt, by the soldiers of his own 
corps. About sunset the corpse was carried up the hill, 
the procession was in view of both armies." 

The great redoubt here mentioned was on one of three 
mound-Hke hills, that we shall soon visit, down by the 
Hudson. The night of the second battle found the de- 
feated British forces compactly collected around these 
hills near Wilbur's Basin, broken, crippled, and laden 
with wounded. The following evening, abandoning al- 
most everything, Burgoyne retreated in a heavy rain up 
the river bank and back to his old camp at Saratoga. 
But even there he was not safe, for, like a wild animal 
tracked to its lair, he was soon surrounded by vastly 
superior forces. 

At the north end of his camp stood a house that had 
always belonged to the Marshall family. It still stands 

107 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

at the extreme north end of Schuylerville, quite in the 
open country, shaded by great pine-trees, and overlook- 
ing the placid Hudson. Its exterior has been modernized, 
so I have chosen to make a sketch of the cellar — the very 




Cellar in the Mar.iliall House, Schuylerville, which ivas 
Used as a Hospital by the British 

one described by Madame Riedesel, the devoted wife 
who followed her husband, the German general, through 
this entire campaign and whose letters give so vivid an 
account of her Saratoga experiences. The rafters she 
describes, pierced by cannon-balls, can still be seen, and 
from the porch you may look across the river and see, 

108 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 

as she did, the hills where the American soldiers stationed 
themselves to fire upon the house: 
I quote from her "Letters": 

"About two o'clock in the afternoon the firing of can- 
non was again heard, and all was alarm and confusion. 
My husband sent me a message telling me to betake my- 
self forthwith into a house which was not far from me. 
I seated myself in the calash with my children, and had 
scarcely driven up to the house, when I saw on the oppo- 
site side of the Hudson River, five or six men with guns, 
which were aimed at us. Almost involuntarily I threw 
the children on the bottom of the calash and myself over 
them. At the same instant the churls fired, and shat- 
tered the arm of a poor English soldier behind us, who was 
already wounded, and was on the point of retreating into 
the house. Immediately after our arrival, a frightful 
cannonade was begun, principally directed against the 
house in which we had sought shelter, probably because 
the enemy believed, from seeing so many people flocking 
around it, that all the generals made it their head- 
quarters. Alas ! it harbored none but wounded soldiers, 
or women ! 

"We were finally obhged to take refuge in a cellar in 
which I laid myself down in a corner not far from the 
door. My children laid down on the earth with their 
heads upon my lap, and in this manner we passed the 
entire night. A horrible stench, the cries of the children, 
and yet more than all this, my own anguish prevented 
me from closing my eyes. 

"On the following morning the cannonade began again, 
but from a different side. I advised all to go out of the 
cellar a little while, during which time I would have it 

109 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

cleaned, as otherwise we should all be sick. . . . After 
they had all gone out and left me alone, I for the first 
time surveyed our place of refuge. It consisted of three 
beautiful cellars, splendidly arched. ... I had just 
given the cellars a good sweeping and had fumigated them 
by sprinkling vinegar on burning coals and each one (the 
wounded) had found his place prepared for him — when 
a fresh and terrible cannonade threw us all once more 
into alarm. . . . Eleven cannon balls went through the 
house, and we could plainly hear them rolling over our 
heads. One poor soldier, whose leg they were about to 
amputate, having been laid upon a table for this purpose, 
had the other leg taken off by another cannon ball, in 
the very middle of the operation. ... I was more dead 
than alive, though not so much on account of my own 
danger, as for that which enveloped my husband, who, 
however, frequently sent to see how I was getting along, 
and to tell me he was still safe. ... In this horrible 
situation we remained six days. Finally, they spoke of 
capitulating, as by temporizing for so long a time, our 
retreat had been cut off. . . . 

"On the 17th of October the capitulation was con- 
summated. The generals waited upon the American 
general-in-chief. Gates, and the troops laid down their 
arms, and surrendered themselves prisoners of war. ; . . 

"At last my husband sent to me a groom with a mes- 
sage that I should come to him with our children. I, 
therefore, again seated myself in my dear calash; and in 
the passage through the American camp, I observed, with 
great satisfaction, that no one cast at us scornful glances. 
On the contrary, they all greeted me, even showing com- 
passion on their countenances at seeing a mother with 
her little children in such a situation. . . . 

"When I approached the tents, a noble looking man 

110 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 

came toward me, took the children out of the wagon, 
embraced and kissed them, and then, with tears in his 
eyes, helped me also to alight. 'You tremble,' said he 
to me, 'fear nothing.' 'No,' replied I, 'for you are so 
kind, and have been so kind to my children, that it has 
inspired me with courage.' He then led me to the tent 
of General Gates, with whom I found Generals Burgoyne 
and Phillips, who were on an extremely friendly footing 
with him. Burgoyne said to me, 'You may now dismiss 
all your apprehensions, for your sufferings are at an 
end.' . . . All the generals remained to dinner with 
General Gates. The man who had addressed me so 
kindly, came up and said to me, ' It may be embarrassing 
to you to dine with all these gentlemen; come now with 
your children into my tent, where I will give you, it is 
true, a frugal meal, but one that will be accompanied by 
the best of wishes.' 'You are certainly,' answered I, 'a 
husband and a father, since you show me such kindness.' I 
then learned that he was the American General Schuyler." 

Schuylerville, named for this gallant gentleman, or 
Saratoga, as it used to be called, is a pretty town ranged 
for the most part along one broad thoroughfare running 
parallel to the river. Though haunted with memories 
of the Indian Wars, one event stands pre-eminent in its 
history: it was the scene of Burgoyne's surrender. 

This important ceremony, by wliich the Americans 
took possession of nearly six thousand prisoners, with 
their arms and accoutrements, besides thirty-five pieces 
of the best artillery then known, took place down near 
the old Schuyler House, to which I have already alluded. 
The troops laid down their arms in the low-lying field 

111 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

just north of the Fishkill, and Rurgoyne dehvered his 
sword to Gates to the south of that stream, where the 
commanding general's marquee stood upon a height. 

A great obehsk, visible far and near, commemorates 
this event — a monument due to the incessant labor of a 
group of patriotic citizens of the locality, and by its size 
and costly appearance giving evidence of their zeal. 

To visit the scene of the battles we took the new State 
road that leads southward to Mechanicsville. As soon as 
we had passed Quaker Springs we w ere on historic ground, 
for here we began to follow the route of Fraser's column 
to their position in the first battle. From here down to 
the river, that can be seen off to the east, extended the 
lines of Rurgoyne's army. 

The woods that then clothed the rolling hills have 
largely disappeared, for now^ trees only follow the hedge- 
rows. The battle-ground to-day has a serene, pastoral 
aspect, its hillocks dotted, here and there, with scattered 
farms set in well-tilled fields. To the east, across the 
Hudson, rises Willard's Mountain, whence the Americans 
observed the Rritish movements. 

We soon reached Freeman's Farm, now^ Rrightman's, 
around which both battles raged. Its site is marked by 
a tablet, and a small monument to the north indicates 
the position of Rreyman's Hill, the Hessian redoubt, 
where Colonel Rreyman was killed and Arnold wounded 
in his last spectacular assault. 

Farther down the road to the south you come upon a 
stone erected to Daniel Morgan's memory by his great- 

112 



TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 



granddaughter, and thus inscribed: "Here Morgan, re- 
luctant to destroy so noble a foe, was forced by pathetic 
necessity to defeat and slay the gentle and gallant Fraser." 
Now a broad panorama unfolds itself southward, and the 
hills called Bemis's Heights become plainly visible — the 
hills upon which the Americans lay intrenched before 
the battle. As we approached the great ravine across 
which both conflicts eddied, we found a stone that marked 
the position of Fort Neilson, a fortified log barn that 
formed the apex or north salient of the American camp. 
Just beyond it another stone, near a farmhouse, indi- 
cates the position of Gates's headquarters. 

We then descended rapidly toward the river and came 
to the site of the old Bemis House that gave its name to 
these historic heights. 



It stood near the 
present-day Bemis's 
Heights Tavern, just 
below which lies the 
village of Stillwater. 
We had now 
reached the southern 
extremity of the 
battle-field. To com- 
plete the circuit you 
should here turn 
north along the river 
and ascend to Wil- 
bur's Basin, where 








^<^^ 



Old Battle Tf'ell, Freeman's Farms 
113 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIxMAGE 

stand the three hills by the river, on one of which was 
the Great Redoubt where General Fraser was buried. 
John Taylor's house, to which he was carried and in 
which he died, used to stand near by. Around these 
three hills, under the guns of the Great Redoubt, the de- 
feated Rritish army huddled after the second battle, and 
from this point started on their retreat back to the place 
of their first encampment, struggling along up the river 
in a driving rain by way of Do-ve-gat, or Coeville, to 
the heights just north of Saratoga, where they finally 
surrendered. 

So ended Rurgoyne's campaign, begun so splendidly 
and attended with such brilhant hopes. The third act 
of his drama was finished in disaster and defeat, and the 
remnants of his proud army marched ofT to Cambridge 
as prisoners of war. 

No American, I Ihink, can visit these plains of Sara- 
toga without a certain thrill of patriotic pleasure — pride 
in the courage of his ancestors, who here made their first 
great capture of the war; humbhng an army of veterans; 
lifting the gloom from Howe's capture of Philadelphia; 
and flashing the news of their triumph across the sea, by 
swift saihng ship from Roston, throwing "Turgot and all 
Paris into transports of joy," and thus influencing the 
French King himself to espouse the American cause. 
The surrender at Saratoga was one of the most decisive 
events of the war. 



114 



DOWN THE HUDSON 



DOWN THE HUDSON 

A FTER the surrender of Burgoyne the chief actors 
/_% in the Saratoga drama set out for Albany. As 
^ .m. there was some difficulty in procuring suitable 
quarters for the captured commander and his mihtary 
family in the small city of that day, General Schuyler 
generously offered his own house for their use, and his 
invitation was accepted. "He wrote his wife to prepare 
everything for giving him (Burgoyne) the best reception 
and his intentions were perfectly fulfilled." * 

Of the arrival of the party and of their stay in Albany 
Madame Riedesel has this to say: 

"The day after this, we arrived in Albany, where we 
had so often longed to be. But we came not as victors ! 
We were, nevertheless, received in the most friendly 
manner by the good General Schuyler, and by his wife and 
daughters, who showed us the most marked courtesy, 
as, also. General Burgoyne, although he had — without 
any necessity, it is said — caused their magnificently built 
houses! to be burned. . . . Even General Burgoyne 
was deeply moved at their magnanimity and said to Gen- 
eral Schuyler 'It is to me, who have done you so much 
injury, that you show so much kindness!' 'That is the 
fate of war,' replied the brave man, 'let us say no more 

* Marquis de Chastellux, "Travels in North America." 
t At Schuylerville or Saratoga. 

117 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

about it,' We remained three days with them, and they 
acted as if they were very reluctant to let us go." 

The old Schuyler mansion, in which they aU stayed, 
still stands toward the south end of Albany, on a hill 
not very far from the river. Until quite recently it has 
been used as an orphan asylum, but the State has now 
bought it, and is restoring it to its original appearance. 
It is an ample residence, built of buff bricks with white 
woodwork, and is finely set in a large square of land, 
shaded by aged chestnut- trees. 

An octagonal entry that juts from the facade serves 
as a sort of vestibule from which you enter at once a 
great square hall, with a drawing-room at one side and 
the dining-room at the other. Both rooms, with their 
handsome fireplaces, recalled to my mind the account 
given by de Chastellux of the visit he paid to the house 
toward the close of the Revolution: 

"A handsome house half way up the bank, opposite 
the ferry, seems to attract attention and to invite strangers 
to stop at General Schuyler's who is the proprietor as 
well as architect. I had recommendations to him from 
all quarters, but particularly from General Washington 
and Mrs. Carter. I had besides given the rendezvous 
to Colonel Hamilton who had just married another of 
his daughters, and was preceded by the Vicomte de 
Noailles and the Comte de Damas who I knew were ar- 
rived the night before." 

Making his way, cold and hungry, across the Hudson 
through the floating ice, he was wishing he might be 

118 



DOWN THE HUDSON 

asked to share the proverbial hospitahty of General 
Schuyler, when 

"the first person we saw on shore was the Chevalier de 
Mauduit who was waiting with the general's sledge, into 
which we quickly stepped and were conveyed in an in- 
stant into a handsome saloon, near a good fire, with Mr. 
Schuyler, his wife and daughters. Whilst we were warm- 
ing ourselves, dinner was served, to which every one did 
honor, as weU as to the Madeira which was excellent 
and made us completely forget the rigor of the season 
and the fatigue of the journey. 

"General Schuyler's family was composed of Mrs. 
Hamilton, his second daughter, who has a mild agreeable 
countenance; of Miss Peggy Schuyler, whose features 
are animated and striking; of another charming girl, 
only eight years old, and of three boys, the eldest of whom 
is fifteen and are the handsomest children that you could 
wish to see." 

As may easily be imagined the old Schuyler House is 
filled with memories. Lafayette, Steuben, Rochambeau, 
and other distinguished foreigners, as well as most of the 
celebrated Americans of that day, were, at one time or 
another, the general's honored guests. In it Alexander 
Hamilton was married to Miss Elizabeth Schuyler, and, 
as de Chastellux tells us, was hving there at the time of 
his visit. The large chambers above and the comfortable 
rooms below have all been occupied by persons of dis- 
tinction. In one of the latter Burgoyne was lodged. 

"His bed was prepared in a large room; but, as he 
had a numerous suite, or family, several mattresses were 

119 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

spread on the floor for some of his officers to sleep near 
him. Mr. Schuyler's second son, a little spoilt child of 
about seven years old, very forward and arch, as all 
American children are, but very amiable, was running all 
the morning about the house. Opening the door of the 
saloon, he burst out a laughing on seeing all the English 
collected, and shutting it after him, cried ' Ye are all my 
prisoners:' this stroke of nature was cruel and rendered 
them more melancholy than the preceding evening." * 

In the broad light of day, in its present transitional 
stage, the great house may lack romance, but on a summer 
night, when the shadows of the chestnut leaves cast their 
odd silhouettes upon its gleaming walls and its white 
roof-balustrades glitter against the starlit sky, the effect 
of the old manor, half-hidden among its trees, is magical 
and strikingly potent with suggestion, and the shades of 
its former occupants — the gouty general and his distin- 
guished visitors — seem to walk again among the dense 
shadows under the chestnut-trees. . . . 

There is no river trip in our country — and few any- 
where — that can excel in beauty a voyage down the 
Hudson from Albany to New York. 

So, as New York is to be the theatre of our next pil- 
grimage, let us take one of the big boats that make the trip 
so delightful and follow the historic stream from north to 
south, reviewing on our way its memories of the Revolution. 

Though no battle of any great consequence was fought 
upon its shores, the Hudson was always considered an 

* De Chastellux. 
120 



DOWN THE HUDSON 

artery of vital importance by the Revolutionary com- 
manders, for by means of it and its ferries, communica- 
tions were maintained between New England and the 
Middle States. So its principal souvenirs form a tale of 
plot and counterplot, surprise and treason. 

There is not much to interest us in the upper half of 
its course, though certainly one will enjoy the ever- 
changing prospect of the placid water, divided now and 
then by islands and framed in wooded hills, behind which 
the great purple silhouettes of the Catskills rise quite 
near and prominent to the westward. We also pass old 
Kingston, settled against the hills in its secluded bight 
— at one time the State capital, and later burned by the 
British on one of their forays. The only building of con- 
sequence that survived this fire is the stone house in 
which the State Legislature met after New York City was 
captured by the British, and in which, on the 30th of 
July, 1777, George Clinton was inaugurated first gov- 
ernor of the State. 

Below Poughkeepsie the river widens and begins to 
take on that lake-hke aspect that is so characteristic of 
all its lower course. The first of these lacustral openings 
is Newburgh Bay. Fishkill and Newburgh both lie upon 
it, and both towns hold their souvenirs of the closing 
chapters of the Revolution. 

The Hasbrouck House, that is still plainly visible from 
the river at the south end of Newburgh, was Wasliington's 
principal headquarters during the last two years of the 
war. It stands on a green set out with obsolete caimon, 

121 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

dating from various epochs, and seems to be specially 
guarded by a simple block of brownstone that marks the 
grave of Uzal Knapp, last survivor of Washington's life- 
guard, who died here in Newburgh at the age of ninety- 
nine. 

At the northeast corner of the grounds rises a massive 
Tower of Victory, an Italianate structure adorned with 
bronzes, erected "in commemoration of the disbandment, 
under proclamation of the Continental Congress of 
October 18, 1783, of the armies by whose patriotic and 
military virtue our national independence and sover- 
eignty were established." For it was here in Newburgh 
that the army was finally disbanded, and it was upon the 
lawn of this very Hasbrouck House that Washington 
took leave of his soldiers and subaltern officers before 
they returned to their homes. 

In the Verplanck House, across the river in Fishkill, 
the officers met and organized, at General Knox's sug- 
gestion, the distinguished Society of the Cincinnati, that 
served to "perpetuate the mutual friendships formed" 
and that still contributes so much to keep alive the 
memory of our patriot forebears. 

The interior of the Hasbrouck House — a very simple 
type of colonial dwelling — has a denuded air, for most 
of its relics and souvenirs have been transported to 
a museum that has recently been erected adjacent to 
it. Rut I like the effect of its bare, whitewashed rooms, 
with their thick reveals and low-studded ceiling beams, 
and the austere furnisliings that suggest the simplicity 

122 



DOWN THE HUDSON 

of camp life. The principal room is a large chamber 
that boasts seven doors and but a single window. Three 
of these doors lead to adjoining apartments — one to the 
dining-room, one to the office or sitting-room, and the 
third to a bedroom; while a fourth gives upon a little 
Dutch stoep that overlooks the Hudson, commanding 
an extensive view up and down the river. 

But the eye quickly focusses upon the narrow gateway 
to the Highlands of the Hudson that stands guarded by 
Breakneck and Storm King, between which you catch 
a distant glimpse of West Point. From Newburgh the 
big day-boat rapidly covers the intervening stretch of 
water to this North Gate of the Highlands, and you enter 
at once the grand defile that is the crowning scenic glory 
of the river. 

Most people prefer to see it on "a perfect day," when 
the heavens are blue and serene, and it certainly has its 
charms under these conditions. But I, for my voyage, 
would unquestionably select a day when the clouds hang 
low and heavy about the mountain- tops ; when the deep 
purple shadows play over their surfaces, and occasional 
shafts of sunlight fitfully hght a peak, a crag, or precipice, 
or project a beam across some stretch of glittering water, 
for to my mind the bold cliffs of the Highlands need these 
effects of light and shade to intensify their dramatic 
atmosphere and to suggest the dark tale — ^in many ways 
the most tragic of the Revolution — that took place 
among them and is indelibly interwoven with their sou- 
venirs — the story of Arnold's treason. 

US 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIiMAGE 




^^t-5S^^-<«^^^-^^-w- 







The Hudson River at West Point 



As we approach West Point we come to a sharp bend 
of the river that turns under the northern batteries, and 
see above us, soaring aloft, the great Victory Monument, 
framed by trees, with the beautiful outhne of the new 
Post Chapel crowning the composition. On turning this 
bend we reahze at once the strategic importance of West 
Point — always considered the key to the Hudson — and 
its great value to the army that held it. 

At the time of the Revolution it was defended by an 
elaborate system of forts and redoubts, and here, at this 
very bend of the river, an enormous chain designed to 
impede navigation up and down stream stretched over 

124 



DOWN THE HUDSON 

to Constitution Island. A few links of this formidable 
chain may still be seen up on the Post Parade — bits of a 
giant's handiwork, each weighing about a hundred and 
fifty pounds. 

General Heath, who commanded West Point just after 
Arnold's treason, thus describes this chain: 

"It was as long as the width of the river between 
West Point and Constitution Island, where it was fixed 
to great blocks on each side, and under the fire of batteries 
on both sides of the river. The links of the chain were 
probably 12 inches wide, and 18 inches long; the iron 
about 2 inches square. This heavy chain was buoyed 
up by very large logs of perhaps 16 or more feet long, the 
chain carried over them, and made fast to each by staples, 
to prevent their shifting; and there were a number of 




Parts of the Great Chain tvhich was Stretched across the Hudson 
125 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

anchors dropped at distances with cables made fast to 
the chain to give it a greater stabihty. The short bend 
of the river at tliis place was much in favor of the chain's 
proving effectual; for a vessel, coming up the river with 
the fairest wind and strongest way, must lose them on 
changing her course to turn the point; and before she 
could get under any considerable way again, even if the 
wind was fair, she would be on the chain, and at the same 
time under a heavy shower of shot and shells." * 

As we round Gee Point between the Chain Battery 
Walk and Constitution Island, a superb reach of the river 
opens out before us, broken mountain silhouettes lying 
one behind another, heavy and blue, then growing fainter 
and yet more faint as they recede into gray distances. 
On the right of the river, rising precipitously from the 
water's edge, tower the grim walls of West Point's battle- 
mented buildings, stern, rugged structures, harmonizing 
well with their surroundings and with the purposes for 
which they were built. 

On the wooded bank opposite, a mile or two below, once 
stood the Beverley Robinson House, whose name is stiU 
perpetuated in Beverley Dock — an old residence, built in 
1750, and a landmark of the region until it was destroyed 
by fire in 1892. Historically it was of great interest, 
for in it took place the chief scenes in the story of Arnold's 
treason. 

So, before we go further, let us briefly rehearse tliis 
dark tale, for, as we proceed down the river, we shall pass, 
one after another, the localities connected with it. 

* Heath's " Memoirs." 
l!26 



DOWN THE HUDSON 

In 1780 Benedict Arnold, then a major-general in the 
American army, was appointed commander of West 
Point, and, on coming to assume his new command, had 
taken up his quarters in the Beverley Bobinson House. 
He had expressly solicited this post, for, even when he 
was making liis request, he was contemplating his treason- 
ous act and knew that the importance of West Point 
would enhance the price of his villainy. For many months 
he had been carrying on a correspondence, under the 
name of "Gustavus," with a "Mr. John Anderson, mer- 
chant," in New York, who was none other than Major 
John Andre, adjutant-general of the British army. 

Finally, negotiations had proceeded to the point where 
Andre felt that a personal interview with Arnold was 
necessary. So, on the 18th of September, 1780, he rode 
up the Hudson to Dobbs Ferry, where he boarded the 
Vulture, a British sloop-of-war that lay at anchor off 
Teller's (Croton) Point. 

A day or two later he was rowed across the river, and 
landed at the south end of Haverstraw Bay. Arnold, 
meanwhile, had come down the river in his barge, and at 
midnight the two men met in a bit of wood known as 
the Firs, not far from Haverstraw. Their conference 
lasted until dawn, when together they passed the Amer- 
ican pickets and repaired to the house of Joshua Hett 
Smith, a Tory, who was actively aiding the plot. 

While they were breakfasting at his house they heard a 
cannonade and, looking out of the window, could see that 
a party of Americans were firing at the Vulture. Andre 

127 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

soon perceived, to his dismay, that the ship raised her 
anchor and dropped out of sight down-stream. He real- 
ized at once that, as he had no boat, his escape in that 
quarter was cut off. But Arnold provided him with a 
pass through the American hues, and Smith fitted him 
out with a change of clothes, so that he could doff the 
British uniform that he had worn under his cloak. This 
change of costume, however, together with the fact that 
he was within the American lines as a disguised British 
officer, definitely put him in the category of a spy. 

Arnold now returned to the Beverley Robinson House, 
and Andre proceeded on horseback to King's Ferry, 
which he crossed and was riding at a brisk pace down the 
Albany Post Road to New York, when, just before he 
entered Tarrytown, he was stopped by a trio of militia- 
men — Paulding, Van Wart, and Williams. His answers 
did not satisfy them and, in spite of Arnold's pass, they 
searched him, finally finding in his stockings important 
papers with which Arnokl had intrusted him, the black- 
est kind of evidence of the whole treasonous plot. De- 
spite all proffered bribes they held him prisoner and 
marched him off toward West Point and General Wash- 
ington. 

Washington had been attending a conference in Hart- 
ford, and was expected to return to the Robinson House 
at any moment. Arnold was there awaiting him when 
a messenger arrived with a despatch telling of the cap- 
ture of a "Mr. John Anderson," with important papers. 
Keeping his presence of mind, although he realized at 

128 



DOWN THE HUDSON 

once what had happened, he hastily bade farewell to his 
wife, and, teUing his officers that he was needed at West 
Point, he jumped into his eight-oared barge and was rowed 
swiftly down the river under the protection of a flag. 

Washington duly arrived an hour or two later, and in 
a letter to the president of Congress, written the very 
next day, he thus relates what happened: 

"Robinson's House, in the Highlands 

"September 26, 1780. 
"Sir, 

"I have the honor to inform Congress that I arrived 
here yesterday about twelve o'clock on my return from 
Hartford. Some hours previous to my arrival Major- 
General Arnold went from his quarters, which were this 
place, and, as it was supposed, over the river to the gar- 
rison at West Point, whither I proceeded myself to visit 
the post. I found General Arnold had not been there 
during the day; and on my return to his quarters he was 
still absent. In the mean time, a packet had arrived 
from Lieut.-Colonel Jameson, announcing the capture of 
a John Anderson, who was endeavoring to go to New 
York, with several interesting and important papers, all 
in the hand-writing of General Arnold. This was also 
accompanied with a letter from the prisoner, avowing 
himself to be Major John Andre, Adjutant-General of the 
British Army, relating the manner of his capture and 
endeavoring to show that he did not come under the 
description of a spy. 

"From these circumstances, and information that the 
General seemed to be thrown into some degree of agita- 
tion on receiving a letter, a httle while before he went 

129 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

from his quarters, I was led to conclude immediately that 
he had heard of Major Andre's captivity and that he 
would, if possible, escape to the enemy, and accordingly 
took such measures as appeared the most probable to 
apprehend him. But he had embarked in a barge, and 
proceeded down the river, under a flag, to the ViiUure 
ship of war which lay at some miles below Stony and 
Yerplank's Points." 

So Arnold reached the ship in safety, while Andre was 
brought a captive to the Robinson House. W ashington 
refused to see him, and after being confined for a few 
days in old Fort Putnam, situated on a crag above West 
Point, he was sent for trial to Tappan, whither we shall 
follow him presently. 

From the parapets of Fort Putnam one gains a splen- 
did view of the Hudson Highlands. To the west lie the 
wild hills and deep ravines of Orange County, while to 
the east a superb panorama unfolds itself, from the North 
Gate of the Highlands to the South Gate — the river de- 
scribing a majestic curve as it bends around Constitution 
Island. The old fort has been restored since I made the 
accompanying drawing, and its bomb-proof and vaulted 
barracks have been completely rebuilt. It loses some of 
its picturesqueness in consequence, but a few of its old 
cedars, dark, sinister, whipped by wind and weather, still 
cut their tragic silliouettes against the sky. Inmiediately 
below its parapets stands the new Post Chapel — an en- 
during monument to its gifted architects, Ralph Adams 
Cram and Bertram Goodhue — wliile, lower still, the broad 

130 




"^r^r^^-" 



Old Fort Putnam, Shoicirig the Magazines 



DOWN THE HUDSON 

green carpet of the Great Parade stretches out, with its 
trophies, statues, and the buildings of its War College. 

As I sat upon the old walls thinking and gazing far out 
over this vast panorama, a sound of music suddenly 
arose in the still air, and I could hear the Post Band 
playing: 

"And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave." 

What a thrill it gave me perched on those historic 
hillsides! How, despite treason and the plots of its 
enemies. Old Glory has triumphed, and how proudly it 
now waves its quadrupled constellation of stars from the 
tall flagstaff on the Great Parade ! And, as if in con- 
sonance with this thought, the dark clouds that had 
been lowering about the mountains now drifted eastward, 
and the westering sun shot forth its rays from behind 
them, gilding the landscape with a great effulgence and 
throwing a gigantic rainbow— emblem of hope— upon the 
sombre masses of the disappearing thunder clouds. 

Five miles below West Point an iron bridge on the west 
shore marks the mouth of Poplopen Creek. On the hill 
to the north of it you will notice a white flagpole. This 
is the site of Fort Montgomery, and to the south on an- 
other bluff used to stand Fort Chnton, both forts being 
very important defenses of the Highlands. Their effec- 
tiveness was increased by a giant chain, eighteen hun- 
dred feet long, similar to the one at West Point, that 

133 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

stretched across the river between Fort Montgomery and 
Anthony's Nose, the steep pyramidal mountain opposite. 

While Burgoyne was in the midst of his struggles in 
the north, Sir Henry Clinton made a diversion up the 
Hudson and delivered a cleverly planned attack on these 
two forts. He succeeded in deceiving General Putnam, 
who lay at Peekskill, as to his real objective, first landing 
his men on the east bank of the river, as if to tlireaten 
him, then transferring them by night across King's 
Ferry to the west bank, marching them around behind 
great Dunderberg so as to fall on both forts at once from 
their land approaches. Both were but poorly garrisoned 
and, after a short resistance, fell into liis hands. 

At a turn of the river below Fort Clinton you look 
between the crags of the Dunderberg and Anthony's 
Nose and obtain your first glimpse into Peekskill Bay, 
with the town of Peekskill sunning itself upon a hillside, 
resembling in many respects some pretty town on one 
of the Italian lakes. Another swing of the river, round 
the base of Thunder Mountain, and a longer reach of the 
Hudson is disclosed. 

Stony Point closes this vista. Across the narrow pas- 
sage between it and Verplanck's Point opposite, plied the 
all-important King's Ferry, one of the main lines of com- 
munication across the Hudson, and so often mentioned 
in reports of the movements of troops. 

In June, 1779, Stony Point had been seized by the 
British, and its possession by them threatened to be a 
grave menace to Washington's communications. So he 

134 



DOWN THE HUDSON 

intrusted General Wayne— " Mad Anthony," as he was 
called — with the difficult task of retaking it. As you pass 
it on the boat you will note that this point is a rocky 
promontory, surrounded on almost every side by water 
and only connected with the mainland by a narrow 
causeway. 

General Wayne secretly led liis troops by night to the 
head of this causeway. They were guided by a negro 
called Pompey — an ardent patriot, but who knew the 
British officers well enough to obtain from them the 
countersign, which, by a strange coincidence, that night 
was "The fort's our own." With the use of tliis pass- 
w^ord and the aid of darkness, Pompey came close to the 
first sentry on the causeway, and had him seized, gagged, 
and overpowered. The same tactics were used for the 
second sentry. Then the Americans stealthily crossed 




Stony Point and the Medal Awarded to Anthony Wayne 

135 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

the causeway, single file, and formed themselves in two 
columns with unloaded muskets and fixed bayonets. 
The two divisions took opposite sides of the hill, and 
charged up it with such rapidity that, before the garrison 
could recover from its surprise, they had met within the 
fort itself and carried it. 

It was a brilliantly successful attack, and for it Congress 
awarded a medal to Anthony Wayne, "for his brave, 
prudent, and soldierly conduct." His report to Wash- 
ington was laconic and characteristic: 

Stoney Point, 16th July, 1779, 

..T^ n , 2 o'clock A.M. 

Dear Gen^ 

"The fort and Garrison with Col*^ Johnston are ours. 
Our officers and men behaved like men who are deter- 
mined to be free. ^t,,^ ^ . , 

I ours most smcerely 

"Ant^ Wayne." 

As the boat passes King's Ferry there opens before 
you the broad expanse of Haverstraw Bay — a wide sheet 
of water framed by low-lying hills, with the Yerdrietig 
Range, first precursors of the Palisades, off to the south- 
west. These shores of Haverstraw Bay bring us again 
to the story of Arnold's treason and the capture of 
Major Andre. 

Down at its far end, off Teller's Point, the VuUure lay. 
From her Andre was rowed across the river and landed 
on the west bank, at the foot of the Long Clove. A few 
miles nearer to you his meeting with Arnold took place 
at midnight in the woods, at a locality known as "The 

136 



DOWN THE HUDSON 

Firs," and at dawn on the 22d of September the two men 
proceeded together, past the American pickets, to Joshua 
Hett Smith's house, that still stands on a ridge known 
as Treason Hill, near West Haverstraw — a squarish stone 
structure which, when I last saw it, was not greatly 
changed in appearance since de Chastellux wrote this 
description of it: 

"My thoughts were occupied with Arnold and his 
treason, when my road brought me to Smith's famous 
house, where he had his interview with Andre and formed 
his horrid plot. It was in this house they passed the 
night together, and where Andre changed his clothes. 
It was there that the liberty of America was bargained 
for and sold; and it was there that chance . . . pre- 
vented the crime. . . . Smith is still in prison, where 
the law protects him from justice. But his house seems 
to have experienced the only chastisement of which it 
was susceptible; it is punished by solitude; and is in 
fact so deserted, that there is not a single person to take 
care of it, although it is the mansion of a large farm." 

The conspirators breakfasted together in the corner 
room at the southeast angle of the house, and it was 
while they were at breakfast that they heard the can- 
nonade down the river, and that Andre, as I have stated, 
saw the Vulture drop down-stream and reahzed that his 
escape by means of her had been cut off. 

So, in the light-blue surtout cloak that he had worn 
over his regimentals, but which now covered a coat 
"between crimson and claret," and with a civilian's 
round beaver hat upon liis head, Andre set out later in 

137 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

the day, with Smith as his guide, to make his way to 
New York by way of King's Ferry. They had crossed 
the river in safety and, with the aid of Arnold's pass, had 
proceeded ahnost to Tarry town when Smith turned back, 
probably thinking that they had passed the last American 
lines. 

It was just beyond this point, as we have seen, that 
Andre, riding alone, fell in with the three militiamen, and 
was taken prisoner. 

The next and last of the lake-like reaches of the Hud- 
son is the Tappan Zee, whose name is linked with the 
tragic end of Andre's story. For it was to Tappan, off 
in the hills to the west, that he was sent for trial before 




^■i.i^i 



w^mww 



Headquarters at Tappan from which the Order for Andre's Execution was Issued 

138 



DOWN THE HUDSON 

a council composed of the principal officers of the Ameri- 
can army, General Greene presiding. 

His trial took place in the Dutch Reformed Church of 
the village, an edifice that has since disappeared but has 
been replaced by a larger one upon the same site. This 
is the church that appears at the head of the village 
street, depicted in my drawing (page 140) — a street that 
has changed but little in a hundred years. 

When the board of officers had judged him guilty, "to 
be considered as a spy from the enemy," Andre was sent 
under close guard to a house near by, in this same vil- 
lage street — a substantial stone structure, still known as 
the '76 Stone House. It is now a tavern, and despite the 
addition of a "ballroom" at the back, has retained much 
of its old-time character, and certainly deserves the atten- 
tion of one of our patriotic societies. 

Andre's courage and deportment during his trial had 
greatly impressed his judges in his favor, and all wished 
that he might have been acquitted or exchanged for the 
traitor Arnold. But military law, then as now, was in- 
flexible, and even his last toucliing appeal to Washington 
"to adapt the mode of my death to the feelings of a man 
of honor," and not to allow him "to die on a gibbet," 
had to be denied. So on the 2d of October, 1780, he was 
led forth to execution. 

As he emerged from the old Stone House, "dressed in 
his royal regimentals and boots," walking arm in arm 
between Ensign Samuel Bowman and Captain John 
Hughes, two more officers stood upon the stoop and fell 

139 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 



in with him, one of them being John Van Dyk, who wrote 
the letter to which I allude in my visit to Washington's 
headquarters in Morristown. Five hundred troops were 
drawn up in the village street, and they, falling into a 
hollow square, accompanied the slow cortege as it took 



*- ,»^ 




'76 Sfone House in irJiich Andre was Imprisoned 

its way toward the church, turned sharp to the west at 
the little triangular green and followed the road up the 
hill to the second turn beyond the present railroad-track. 
Of this progress from the prison to the place of execu- 
tion. Doctor Thacher has this to say: 

"I was so near, during the solemn march to the fatal 
spot, as to observe every movement and to participate 
in every emotion the melancholy scene was calculated to 
produce. . . . The eyes of the immense multitude were 
fixed on him who, rising superior to the fears of death, 
appeared as if conscious of the dignified deportment he 
displayed. Not a murmur or a sigh ever escaped him, 

140 



DOWN THE HUDSON 

and the civilities and attentions bestowed on him were 
poHtely acknowledged." 

The road all the way was hned with soldiery, and all 
the American officers were in their places — all except 
Washington and his staff, whose absence Andre is said 
to have noted. Of the various versions of the final scene, 
Doctor Thacher's is usually quoted, but I prefer the less 
known one left us by Alexander Hamilton, because, 
though it gives us fewer material details, it contains such 
a fine estimate of Andre's charming character. It was 
written in the form of a letter to Colonel Laurens, and is 
given in extenso in the "Life of Alexander Hamilton," 
written by his son. 

"Arrived at the fatal spot, he asked with some emo- 
tion, ' must I then die in this manner ! ' He was told it 
had been unavoidable. 'I am reconciled to my fate, 
(said he) but not to the mode.' Soon, however, recollect- 
ing himself, he added, 'it will be but a momentary pang;' 
and, springing upon the cart, performed the last offices 
for himself, with a composure that excited the admiration 
and melted the hearts of the beholders. Upon being 
told the final moment was at hand, and asked if he had 
anything to say, he answered, 'Nothing but to request 
you will witness to the world, that I die fike a brave 
man.' Among the extraordinary circumstances that at- 
tended him, in the midst of his enemies, he died univer- 
sally regretted and universally esteemed. . . . 

"There was something singularly interesting in the 
character and fortunes of Andre. To an excellent un- 
derstanding, well improved by education and travel, he 

141 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 



united a peculiar elegance of mind and manners, and the 
advantage of a pleasing person. It is said, he possessed 
a pretty taste for the fine arts, and had himself attained 
some proficiency in poetry, music and painting. His 
knowledge appeared without ostentation, and embellished 
by a diffidence that rarely accompanies so many talents 

and accomplishments 
which left you to sup- 
pose more than appeared. 
"His sentiments were 
elevated and inspired es- 
teem; — they had a soft- 
ness that conciliated affec- 
tion, . . . The character 
I have drawn of him, is 
drawn partly from what 
I saw of him myself, and 
partly from information." 







Stone Marh'ng Ihe Place of Andre s 
Execntion 



Such was the man who died in the full promise of his 
youth. "His remains were placed in an ordinary coffin, 
and interred at the foot of the gallows; and the spot was 
consecrated by the tears of thousands." * 

This spot, upon a hilltop above Tappan, is now marked 
by a block of granite surrounded by a circular iron rail- 
ing. When last I visited it and stepped up to read the 
inscription, I found that, by a singular chance, I had 
come to the place upon the very anniversary of his death. 
So, as I looked about me at the surrounding hills and 

* Doctor Thacher. Andre's remains were afterward removed to West- 
minster Abbey, where his final resting-place is marked by a handsome 
monument. 

142 



DOWN THE HUDSON 

valleys, I seemed to behold Nature as Andre saw her 
with his dying look: the leaves just yellowing on the 
trees; the soft quiet of a day in early October; the blue 
mists hanging in the valley where the Sparkill meanders 
past Washington's headquarters, with a glimpse of the 
white Dutch church steeple nestled snugly among the 
trees of the village. 



143 



ABOUT NEW YORK 



ABOUT NEW YORK 

CONSIDERING that the great modern city of 
New York, like a giant octopus, growing bigger 
year by year, has reached out its tentacles and 
spread over the outlying country for many miles, defying 
every prediction and surpassing every dream of its found- 
ers, it seems a wonder indeed that anything at all remains 
among its gigantic edifices and close-built streets to re- 
call the period of the American Revolution. 

Yet such remains do exist and a visit to them, with a 
rehearsal of their souvenirs, will, I think, prove most in- 
teresting. 

So let us begin our New York pilgrimage at the Battery, 
where Fort George (originally Fort Amsterdam), the out- 
ward and visible sign of military authority in Colonial 
days, used to stand upon the site of the present custom- 
house. It was a strong work, and its guns were supple- 
mented by an important battery of artillery placed along 
the water-front to command the harbor — the battery 
that gave its name to the promenade. 

In front of Fort George, on Bowling Green, stood a 
big equestrian statue of the King. George III, a cloaked 
figure, crowned and mounted on a prancing horse, and 
surrounded, in the year 1771, by the heavy iron raihng 
brought out from England that still, despite all vicissi- 
tudes and changes in the neighborhood, fences in the 

147 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

little triangular plot of grass. The ornamental supports 
for the lanterns are still in place, and the sharp iron 
pahngs and the posts that used to be surmounted with 




Old Houses on State Street, New York City 



heads, so clumsy in workmanship with their worn, hand- 
wrought appearance, contrast sharply with the finely 
finished, ornate bronze work on all the surrounding 
buildings. 

148 



ABOUT NEW YORK 



From the town that centred round Bowhng Green one 
main artery led north through the island and that was 
Broadway. Number One upon that thoroughfare, now 
a big office-building, bears a tablet stating that 

Here stood Kennedy House 

once Headquarters 

of Generals Washington and Lee. 

General Charles Lee used it upon his arrival in the city 
at the beginning of the war while he was inspecting and 
putting in order its defenses. Washington occupied it 
as his headquarters during most of the troubled period of 
active operations which we shall soon follow in some de- 
tail. Lossing gives a picture of the old house that is 
reminiscent of some of those that still front the Battery 
on State Street — houses that afford 
an excellent idea of the fashionable / "\ 

residences of the Revolutionary 
period. The tablet might have 
added that Kennedy 
House, after the evacua- 
tion of New York by the 
Americans, became the 
headquarters of Sir Henry 
Clinton and of Sir Guy 
Carleton. 

Now, if we walk up that 
narrow slit, walled in by 
gigantean structures — that 

149 




fi -'1 

■\ f 


^ 






Tnmh of Alerm 


(Jer 


(..^ V5,VV' ■■ 


Hanultou, Triniti/ 




Churrh'jard 






■ r . 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

wonder of the New World that is lower Broadway, we 
soon reach Trinity Church, in whose graveyard sleep 
many men and women of the Revolution. Near the 
south railing lies Alexander Hamilton, under a conspicu- 
ous tomb erected to the memory of 

The Patriot of Incorruptible Integrity 

The Soldier of Approved Valour 

The Statesman of Consummate Wisdom 

as the epitaph records. In front of it is the plain slab 
that marks his wife's grave — "Eliza, daughter of Philip 
Schuyler" — whose girlhood home we have just visited at 
Albany, and to whose courtship I allude in my chapter 
devoted to Morristown. 

In the north half of the cemetery, near the Broadway 
line, rises the so-called martyrs' monument, a tall Gothic 
memorial 

Sacred to the memory of 

Those brave and good men who died 

Whilst imprisoned in this city for their devotion to 

The Cause of Independence. 

— the men who died in the Sugar House prison and were 
interred in Trinity Churchyard in nameless graves. 

A few blocks farther up Broadway stands St. Paul's 
Chapel, now toned to a rich, smoky brown, recalling the 
London churches designed by Sir Christopher Wren and 
retaining more of its Colonial atmosphere than any 
other edifice in the city. It was finished about ten years 
prior to the Revolution and stood on the outskirts of the 

150 



ABOUT NEW YORK 



city, fronting the river, with a lawn sloping down to the 

water, which at that time came up to Greenwich Street. 
Under the Broadway portico is the monument erected 

in 1776, by order of Congress, to the memory of Major- 

General Richard Montgomery, who fell gloriously while 

charging the citadel at Quebec, killed just as he had 

called to his men: "Men of New 

York, you will not fear to follow 

where your general leads." In ; 

1818 his remains were brought 

down from Canada and interred 

close by this monument. 
During the British oc- 
cupation many of the 
leading officers wor- 
shipped at St. Paul's, ' 
and on the day " r 
of his inaugura- ; i: 
tion as first Pres- 
ident of the r 
United States, 

Washington ) 

went to it to at- ~ 

tend divine ser- 
vice. Thereafter _ . , ^_:=^ — 
he attended it ' - ZlJ^'^- 
regularly and z^— 
the double pew 

wherein he sat is The Monument to Montgomery, St. PauVs Church 

151 




REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 



still to be seen in the left aisle, against the north wall of 
the church. Opposite it, in the right aisle, is the one 
occupied by the first American governor of New York, 
George Clinton. 

To Fraunces' Tavern and its associations I allude in 
another chapter. 

Now let us rehearse the story of the capture of New 
York by the British in 1776 and visit the places connected 
with that campaign. 

When General Howe evacuated Boston in March, 1776, 
we saw him embark his army and set sail for Halifax. 
There he remained until the month of June, when he 
turned his attention to New York, his object being to 
capture the chief American seaport and make it the base 
of his future operations. 

On the 28th of June four fleet frigates suddenly ap- 
peared off Sandy Hook, 
slipped through the Nar- 
rows, and dropped anchor 
in the outer harbor. On 
board of one of them, the 
Greyhound, was Howe him- 
self, come ahead of his 
forces to confer with the 
royal governor, Tryon, who 
was awaiting him in the 
Lower Bay on one of the 
King's ships. 

On the following morn- 




Washingions Pew, St. Paul's Church 



152 



ABOUT NEW YORK 



ing forty sail were sighted off the Hook, and within a 
few days a hundred and tliirty men-of-war and trans- 
ports lay anchored under the lee of Staten Island, where 
the Quarantine 
Station now is. 
They rapidly 
discharged their 
troops until the 
green hills of the 
island were whit- 
ened with their 
tents. 

Washington 
had foreseen this 
probable move 
of Howe's and 
had done every- 
thing he could to 
prepare the city 
for it. He had 
carefully gone 
over the defenses 
and put them in 
the best order 
possible. There were four main strategic points to be 
guarded: King's Bridge, at the extreme north end of 
Manhattan Island; Fort George, at the Battery, whose 
guns, with those of Paulus Hook on the Jersey shore op- 
posite, commanded the entrance to the Hudson River; 

158 




Map of Operaiions near New York City 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

Governor's Island, that defended the mouth of the East 
River; and Rrooklyn Heights, which overlook and com- 
mand what was then New York City. 

But a distance of fifteen miles separated King's Bridge 
from Brooklyn and two ferries were necessary to trans- 
port troops from Paulus Hook to the same locality. 
For these extensive hnes of defense Washington disposed 
of scarcely twenty thousand men, many of them in- 
sufficiently armed and equipped, and many raw recruits. 

A few days after the arrival of the British ships a 
messenger from Philadelphia brought tidings of the 
adoption of the Declaration of Independence. The 
threatening presence of the enemy's army down the bay 
and the hourly expectation of an attack had keyed the 
people of the city to a high tension. So that, when this 
news reached them, their patriotic enthusiasm knew no 
bounds. 

At six in the evening, on the 9th of July. 1776, the 
Declaration was read at the head of the army drawn up 
on the common, where the present City Hall stands — a 
tablet on its southwest corner recording that fact. Then 
the populace, joined by a number of the soldiers, unable 
to control their feelings and not content with bonfires, 
tolling bells, and noise of all descriptions, flocked to 
Bowling Green, where stood the statue of the King, and, 
with shouts and jeers, pulled down the leaden effigy to 
melt it into bullets for the "cause of independence." 

Only a day or two later, toward evening, a great boom- 
ing of cannon from the fleet down the bay brought every 

154 



ABOUT NEW YORK 

citizen to some point of vantage and every spy-glass in 
the city was fixed upon the British vessels. A great 
ship-of-the-Hne was seen standing grandly through the 
Narrows and, as she passed, she was greeted by every 
man-of-war with an admiral's salute. A flag flew at her 
peak and those of the watchers who knew cried out: 
"It's the admiral's ship; Lord Howe has come!" 

Lord Richard, the admiral, who thus came to America 
to take command of the combined British fleets, was the 
brother of Sir William, the general, and these two were 
now to co-operate in putting down the rebellion in the 
colonies and in bringing them back to allegiance to the 
King. The admiral tried very honestly at first to accom- 
plish this by peaceful means — pardons, treaties, and the 
like — but, of course, failed. Then his brother, the gen- 
eral, turned to sterner measures. 

Besides the army that he had brought with him from 
Halifax, he had now been reinforced, in the month of 
August, by the arrival of Clinton's and Cornwallis's 
commands; by Commodore Hotham's fleet from England, 
bringing twenty-six hundred British troops and eighty- 
four hundred Hessians; and, lastly, by Sir Peter Parker's 
discomfited squadron from Charleston, thus swelfing his 
effectives to twenty-five thousand men. 

He now determined to transport the bulk of this for- 
midable army from Staten to Long Island and there at- 
tack the Americans who were posted upon Brooklyn 
Heights in a line of intrenchments extending from Go- 
wanus Cove to Wallabout Bay where the Brooklyn Navy 

155 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

Yard now is. On the summit of the intervening hills, 
now Fort Greene Park, stood the main redoubt, then 
called Fort Putnam but since renamed Fort Greene. 

The British landed in admirable order in the Narrows 
near Fort Hamilton and the Hessians were "transported 




View from Old Fori Putnam (now Fort Greene), Brooklyn 



to Gravesend Cove and made their landing with equal 
skill." A long range of hills crosses Long Island, extend- 
ing from the Narrows toward Jamaica — the hills of 
Greenwood Cemetery, Prospect Park, Flatbush, and 
Cypress Hills. They are cut by four passes and Howe 
proceeded at once to threaten all four of them, sending 
one column, his left, under General Grant, along the bay 
to the vicinity of Gowanus Cove; de Heister with the 
Hessians, his centre, to occupy the two passes at Flat- 

156 



ABOUT NEW YORK 

bush; and, at the last moment, Lord Percy, with the 
right wing, shpped silently by night far around by what 
is still known as the King's Highway, the road that 
passes Flatlands and leads to the Cypress Hills, return- 
ing behind them to take the American outposts in the 
rear. 

Unfortunately, the American commander in Brooklyn, 
Nathanael Greene, who knew its defenses so well, was 
stricken with a raging fever a day or two before the 
battle, and Israel Putnam had been assigned to his place. 

General Putnam's eyes seem to have been too intently 
fixed upon the very evident advance of the British left 
wing, so that when firing began in the direction of Go- 
wanus Cove, before daylight on the 22d of August, he 
instantly ordered Lord Stirling, a fine active officer, "to 
stop the advance of the enemy" with two of the best 
American regiments — Haslet's Delawares and Small- 
wood's Marylanders. Stirling obeyed and by dawn was 
in contact with Grant's advancing column. 

General Sullivan, who was in command of three im- 
portant American outposts at the Flatbush Pass — Battle 
Pass, as the little valley in Prospect Park that I have 
drawn has come to be called — also at daybreak found 
the Hessians under de Heister in front of him, firing upon 
his positions and threatening an attack in force. 

The firing near Gowanus Cove and the boom of de 
Heister's cannon were plainly audible in New York City, 
and Washington, hearing these guns, realized that a gen- 
eral action was on. He jumped into liis barge, crossed 

157 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

the East River, and galloped to the Brooklyn works just 
in time to witness the catastrophe that was there taking 
place. 

Sullivan had maintained his position well, when the 
sudden thunder of Lord Percy's guns out on his left, on 
the Jamaica Road, told him he was outflanked and in 
serious danger of being cut off. He immediately ordered 
a retreat, but it was already too late. For as he re- 
tired he met, in his rear, the dragoons and light infantry 
and, at the same time, the Hessians charged upon his 
front. Caught thus between two fires, driven back and 
forth from one enemy to the other, the Americans fought 
gallantly and desperately. But numbers were against 
Ihem. Some were trampled under the horses' hoofs; 
others furiously bayoneted by the hated Hessians, until 
the narrow pass became a terrible scene of slaughter. A 
few stragglers managed to cut their way through and 
escape, but nearly all were either killed or made prisoners ; 
General Sullivan himself among the latter. 

But this was not all; a worse disaster was impending. 
Washington, from his position on the heights, could see 
it coming, but was powerless to prevent it. 

Stirling, who had been holding Grant's column in 
check, now also heard firing in his rear. He, too, thought 
he could retreat by fording Gowanus Creek, but upon 
retiring toward it he fell into Cornwallis and his grena- 
diers. No thought of surrender entered his head, how- 
ever, and with his small army he boldly faced the enemy 
on both fronts. A fierce and desperate battle ensued, 

158 




1 ' 1 '\ 




Battle Pass, Prospect Park, Broolclijn 



ABOUT NEW YORK 

for the Marylanders were a game regiment, largely com- 
posed of young men of the best famihes of their State. 
Lord Stirhng animated them with voice and example 
and they fought with such conspicuous gallantry and fire 
that Washington, watching them from his hilltop, wrung 
his hands in despair, exclaiming: "Good God! what 
brave fellows I must this day lose," But at last, pushed 
to desperation and seeing no hope of escape, Stirling sur- 
rendered. 

In view of this defeat, Washington now fully expected 
that Howe would make an assault upon his main line of 
intrenchments, but the British general decided other- 
wise. Instead, he collected his men out of range of mus- 
ket-shots and encamped for the night. It was an anxious 
night for the Americans, for everything portended a de- 
cisive battle on the morrow, and, in truth, when daylight 
did come it revealed the British army close at hand. The 
soldiers were already beginning to throw up intrench- 
ments when a drenching rain drove them from their work. 

Meanwhile reinforcements for the Americans had 
come over from New York: Shee's and Magaw's Pemi- 
sylvanians — fine, well-disciplined troops and well of- 
ficered — and Colonel Glover's regiment of Marblehead 
fishermen, stalwart, hardy, amphibious men, whom we 
shall meet again on the banks of the Delaware. 

On the morning of the 29th a dense fog overhung 
Long Island. But a reconnoitring party that rode out to 
Red Hook saw, through a rift, the British fleet busthng 
with activity and they feared that the ships might be 

161 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

planning to sail up the East River and thus completely 
cut off the American army on the island. So they hast- 
ened back to Washington and reported what they had 
seen. A council of war was quickly convoked and it de- 
cided that a retreat was imperative and must be effected 
that very night. 

Here, indeed, was a stupendous task — to ferry nine 
thousand men with their artillery and baggage over the 
East River, with its swirling tides and eddying currents, 
and to do this with such secrecy and in such silence that 
the enemy's pickets, only a quarter of a mile away, might 
suspect nothing of iheir movements. 

Washington hastily requisitioned every boat that could 
be found and collected them on the Rrooklyn side of the 
Fulton Ferry, placing them in charge of the men of Mar- 
blehead. A strong northeaster had been blowing all 
day accompanied by a heavy rain. The river was dark 
and angry, with a strong tide running. The militia regi- 
ments were first embarked but the wind was so high that 
even the Marblehead fishermen could not spread a close- 
reefed sail. So for three hours all boats were rowed with 
muffled oars. 

But at midnight, as if by act of Providence, the tide 
turned, the wind dropped and veered to a gentle, favoring 
breeze; the barges could be loaded to the gunwale and 
their sails could be hoisted; and thus the retreat pro- 
ceeded with celerity. General Mifflin, who, with the 
best troops, had remained up in the trenches till the last, 
now came down to the ferry with his covering party and 

102 



ABOUT NEW YORK 

embarked. Washington, who had watched all this time 
at the point of embarkation, directing the movements of 
the troops, then crossed the river in the very last boat. 

Tliis retreat from Long Island remains one of the out- 
standing events of the war, one of Washington's great 
achievements, for by it he saved his army from inevitable 
disaster, rescuing it from the grip of a foe quite double its 
strength. 

His stealthy departure was not discovered until dawn 
when, warned by reports, " Captain Montressor, aide-de- 
camp of General Howe, followed by a handful of men, 
climbed cautiously over the crest of the works and found 
them deserted." Howe's prey had escaped. 

After the retreat from Long Island the army in New 
York was reorganized, but the Americans could scarcely 
hope to successfully defend both sides of Manliattan 
Island, whose long water-front was so exposed to attack. 
During the first days of September the British advanced 
up the Long Island side of the East River and threw out- 
posts as far as Flushing. Their frigates succeeded in 
passing Governor's Island and ascended the East River 
to Newtown Inlet; so that the whole east shore of Man- 
hattan was threatened. 

Under this menace the Americans decided to evacuate 
the city, and, two weeks after the battle of Long Island, 
Washington began to remove the artillery and military 
stores to New Jersey. He was given little time to ac- 
complish his purpose, however, for three British frigates 
ascended the Hudson and anchored near Bloomingdale. 

163 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

On Saturday, the 14th of September, the bulk of the 
army marched out of the city and up to Harlem, leaving 
only General Putnam with about four thousand men to 
cover their retreat. The very next morning a heavy 
cannonading was heard in the East River. Many barges 
were seen to put out from Newtown Inlet and crossed, 
approximately at the East 34th Street Ferry to Kipp's 
Bay, under cover of the frigates, the "open flatboats 
filled with soldiers standing erect; their arms aU ghttering 
in the sunbeams." 

Some mihtia was there to oppose their landing, but 
they broke and ran at the first sight of the redcoats, as 
Washington himself thus describes: 

"At the first sound of firing, I rode with all possible 
dispatch towards the place of landing, when to my sur- 
prise and mortification, I found the troops that had been 
posted in the lines, retreating with the utmost precipita- 
tion. ... I used every means in my power to rally 
and get them in order, but my attempts were fruitless 
and ineffectual, and on the appearance of a small party 
of the enemy, not more than sixty or seventy in number, 
their disorder increased, and they ran away without firing 
a shot." 

This was one of the rare occasions upon which Wash- 
ington lost his temper, and his rage at the cowardly militia 
was unbridled as he exclaimed: "Are these the men with 
whom I am to defend America.^" 

The British then marched unopposed across the island 
as far as the Inclenberg or Murray Hill and took up their 

164 



ABOUT NEW YORK 

position upon the high ground that rises just above 34th 
Street, extending from Lexington to Sixth Avenues. 

General Howe, with some of his officers, stopped for 
refreshments at the house of Robert Murray, a wealthy 
Quaker, whose residence gave its name to the hill. He 
happened to be away, but his wife set cakes and wine 
before the sybaritic British general and phed him so as- 
siduously with good things that he remained quite a time 
in the house. This delay gave Putnam and his rear- 
guard the needed opportunity to hasten forward and 
join the army up in Harlem. So it was generally as- 
serted that Mrs. Murray saved Putnam's division of the 
army. 

Washington now took up his quarters in the house of 
Colonel Roger Morris, that still stands on Washington 
Heights and is now 



the 



better known as 
Juniel Mansion. 

Despite the fact that 
its surroundings are 
now disfigured by a 
great apartment-house, 
a huge water-tank, and 
several acres of car 
yards, its situation is 
still quite wonderful. 
As I sat with its genial 
and erudite curator on 
the httle porch under 




The Jumti Mansion 
165 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

the big white portico, watching the cloud shadows play over 
the hills, I thought of the anxious hours that Washington 
must have passed up here, scanning the heights across 
the Harlem River for scout ing-parties or watching the 
hills to the south where Earl Percy's troops lay encamped. 

The handsome house is now maintained under the aus- 
pices of the Daughters of the American Revolution, and 
in its rooms is displayed a notable collection of Revolu- 
tionary relics of all descriptions: portraits, souvenirs, 
uniforms, arms and ammunition, besides furniture and 
old prints. There are, too, some of those curious andirons 
of Hessian soldiers, that were so popular, for the patriots 
loved to sit and toast their toes while they spat at the 
hated mercenaries who sizzled in reply. 

Washington's council-chamber, as it is called, juts out 
at the back of the hall — a great drawing-room having 
windows on three sides and a fine chimneypiece at its 
far end. In the hall itself hangs Ercole's large portrait of 
Madame Jumel, now restored to its original position after 
many years of absence. But her story, fascinating as it 
is, does not belong to our quest, so we shall turn from 
thoughts of her to a rare old map that hangs in one of the 
rooms — a map of the "North Part of New York Island, 
exhibiting the Plan of Fort Washington, now Fort Knyp- 
hausen, with the rebel lines to the Southward which were 
forced by the troops under the command of Rt. Hon^'" 
Earl Percy on the 16th of Nov^, 1776." 

The territory embraced in this map is the scene of our 
next field of operations, for I do not mean to burden the 

166 



ABOUT NEW YORK 

reader with the minor battles that intervened between the 
evacuation of New York City and the capture of Fort 
Washington. The encouraging encounter on Harlem 
Heights; the engagements along the shore of the Sound; 
the battles at Chatterton Hill and White Plains were 
among these, but they ended with no material advantage 
to either side. Besides, little or no vestige of them remains 
in the now flourishing suburban towns of New Rochelle, 
White Plains, Mamaroneck, and Tuckahoe. 

The last engagement took place at White Plains, and, 
after it, to obviate a more decisive battle, Washington re- 
tired to North Castle Heights about five miles above his 
last position. A day or two later Howe, to his surprise, 
turned about and left him. 

"Yesterday morning the enemy made a sudden and 
unexpected movement from the several posts they had 
taken in our front. They broke up their whole encamp- 
ments the preceding night and have advanced toward 
King's Bridge and the North River. The design of this 
manoeuvre is a matter of much conjecture and specula- 
tion and cannot be accounted for with any degree of 
certainty. ... I think it highly probable and almost 
certain that he (Howe) will make a descent with a part 
of his troops into Jersey, and as soon as I am satisfied that 
the present manoeuvre is real, and not a feint, I shall 
use every means in my power to forward a part of our 
forces to counteract his design. I expect the enemy will 
bend their force against Fort Washington and invest it 
immediately. From some advices, it is an object that 
wiU attract their earliest attention." * 

* Washington, in a letter to Congress. 
167 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

Washington was right. The enemy did "bend their 
force against Fort Washington" and prepare to attack it. 

The north end of Manhattan Island is a narrow strip 
of land, high, rocky, and precipitous in places. The Hud- 
son River skirts it to the west; the Harlem River to the 
east; while its north end is separated from the mainland 
by the narrow but swirling rapids of Spuyten Duyvil 
Creek. At the time of the Revolution but one tie to the 
mainland existed — King's Rridge, in the locality that 
still retains that name. 

The Americans had perfected quite an elaborate system 
of fortifications in this vicinity. On the height north of 
King's Rridge stood Fort Independence, supported by a 
number of redoubts designated by numerals. LTpon 
Manhattan Island itself Cock Hill Fort commanded the 
mouth of Spuyten Duyvil Creek, and on the heights 
above it were Fort George and Fort Tryon. Still south 
of these the ground again rises, culminating at 183d 
Street in a bluff that overlooks both the Hudson and 
Harlem Rivers. Here, prior to the battle of Long Island, 
the Pennsylvania troops had built "a strong work, in- 
tended as a kind of citadel," which they named Fort 
Washington in honor of the commander-in-chief. 

Major Graydon, who was captured with it, thus de- 
scribes it in his "Memoirs": 

"There were no l)arracks, or casemates, or fuel or 
water within the body of the place. It was an open con- 
struction, with ground at a short distance on the back 
of it equally high, if not higher; without a ditch of any 

168 



ABOUT NEW YORK 

consequence, if there was a ditch at all; no outworks but 
an incipient one on the north not deserving the appella- 
tion, or any of those exterior multiplied obstacles and de- 
fenses that, so far as I can judge, could entitle it to the 
name of fortress in any degree capable of sustaining a 
siege. It required no parallels to approach it; the citadel 
was at once within reach of assailants." 

About a mile to the south of it an inner line of in- 
trenchments stretched across the island at 162d Street, 
just including the Morris Mansion, Washington's head- 
quarters, within it. At 155th Street was a second line 
of intrenchments and at 145th Street an outer or first 
line, with batteries and outposts as far south as 128th 
Street, where the American defenses ended. 

This part of the city should be of especial interest to 
New Yorkers, for upon it was fought the only battle in 
the city's history. Yet how many of its citizens, I wonder, 
have ever knowingly visited the site of Fort Washington ? 

Leaving Broadway at 181st Street, the nearest that is 
cut through, you chmb quite a hill as you walk toward 
the river. Soon you reach Fort Washington Road, a 
broad avenue that leads to the north, and at the top of 
the hill you will find a monument, whose bronze tablet 
is thus inscribed: 

This Memorial Marks the Site of 

Fort Washington 

Constructed by the Continental Troops 

in the Summer of 1776. 

Erected through the generosity of James Gordon Bennett 

by the Empire State Society, Sons of the American Revolution, 

1901. 

1G9 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

From this memorial you gain an excellent idea of the 
terrain that the fortress commanded. The vicinity is 
not built over, but remains quite green and open, and its 
grassy slopes afford rendezvous for the mothers of the 
neighborhood and playgrounds for their children. To the 
east the land falls away abruptly to Broadway that hes 
far below you; to the north you overlook the slopes that 
bore Fort George and Fort Try on; to the south lay the 
triple lines of the American defenses; while to the west- 
ward the precipitous bluffs overlook the Hudson. 

Fort Washington, with Fort Lee opposite upon the 
Palisades, were supposed to command this North River, 
but, despite their cannon and the chevaux-de-frise that 
connected them, British ships could and did pass. This 
being the case, Washington was in favor of abandoning 
Fort Washington altogether, but his good judgment was 
overruled by some of his generals. 

When Howe had turned his back on him at White 
Plains, Washington had marched his army to Tarrytown, 
crossed to the Jersey shore, and encamped near Hacken- 
sack, keeping in close touch, however, with the garrison 
he had left in Fort Washington under Colonel Magaw. 

Howe now prepared to storm this last fortress remain- 
ing in American hands on the New York side of the Hud- 
son, The Hessians, under Knyphausen, came down to 
Spuyten Duyvil and were ferried across to the lowlands 
northeast of Fort Washington. They were seen as day 
broke and cannonaded, but, splitting into two columns, 
they began to advance, Knyphausen leading the main 

170 



ABOUT NEW YORK 



body by the present Kingsbridge Road, while Rail (of 
whom we shall see more at Trenton) directed his troops 



r.K»i^ ■ -'^ 











Site of Fort Washington, Looking toward Fort Lee 

against Fort Tryon, fighting, according to Cornwallis, 
"to the admiration of the entire British army." His 
soldiers were worthily matched, however, by the Mary- 
landers, who held them at bay for several hours until 

171 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

"at length they were obhged to submit to a superiority 
of numbers and retire under the cannon of the fort." 

Meanwliile Lord Percy had been attacking the intrench- 
ments to the south of the fort and Colonel Cadwalader, 
who commanded there, had been obliged to withdraw his 
men to the third or innermost hne. Then the British 
succeeded in crossing the Harlem River at two points 
and took Cadwalader in the rear. He ordered a retreat, 
and his men, in much confusion, finally reached the fort. 
But there all was in disorder, the entire garrison being 
now crowded into a space intended for only one thousand 
men. A flag was sent in with a summons to surrender, 
and Colonel Magaw, completely surrounded and feel- 
ing further resistance futile, gave up the fort. 

Thus fell Fort Washington, whose loss was one of the 
severest blows sustained by the patriots during the en- 
tire war. More than two thousand men, besides forty- 
three cannon and a large quantity of military stores, fell 
into the hands of the British. Greene, who had advised 
defending the fort, felt "mad, vexed, sick and sorry," and 
Washington wrote to Congress: 

"The loss of such a number of officers and men, many 
of whom have been trained with more than usual atten- 
tion, will, I fear, be severely felt; but when that of the 
arms and accoutrements is added, much more so; and 
must be a further incentive to procure as considerable a 
supply as possible for the new troops, as soon as it can be 
done." 



172 



IN THE JERSEYS 



IN THE JERSEYS 



TRENTON 



A FTER the loss of Fort Washington, and Washing- 
/jk ton's retirement to the west bank of the Hudson, 
I^ m. Cornwalhs assumed command of the troops 
that were to pursue him and operate against him in New 
Jersey. So now we shall follow the two armies into that 
State. 

General Greene was in command of Fort Lee, situ- 
ated on the Palisades almost opposite Fort Washington 
and about where the Fort Lee Ferry still perpetuates its 
name. During the night of the 18th of November, 1776, 
five thousand British troops marched up the Hudson, 
crossed unseen, near Yonkers, and succeeded in dragging 
their cannon up the PaUsades. Greene had expected no 
attack from that quarter and had placed no guard in that 
direction. So that he was taken completely by surprise 
and obhged to evacuate the fort in the greatest haste, 
saving his garrison but leaving most of his baggage and 
artillery behind him. Thus blow after blow fell upon the 
patriots. 

Washington, " with the wretched remains of a broken 
army," succeeded in covering Greene's retreat, but then 

175 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

fell back across the Hackensack. The prospects were 
indeed gloomy and the British officers were writing home : 
"Lord Cornwallis is carrying all before him in the Jer- 
seys; peace must soon be the consequence." 

Too weak to stand and fight, Washington continued to 
retreat from point to point. His rear left Newark as the 
British advance entered it; he gained New Brunswick on 
the 28th, but on the 1st of December was obliged to move 
on, destroying the Raritan bridge behind him. Then, 
with a scant three thousand men, he fell back to Prince- 
ton and thence to Trenton. 

He had ordered General Charles Lee (who was in the 
Highlands) to join him at all costs, but that officer, am- 
bitious, jealous, and anxious for the chief command him- 
self, would not co-operate, and claiming to be a "general 
detached to make an important diversion," led his troops 
off on his own account. On the 12th of December his 
forces hung upon the British flank at Vealtown — now 
fashionable Bernardsville (and I do not wonder that 
they changed the name) — and he himself was spending 
the night near by at Basking Ridge, Next morning, after 
a late breakfast, he had just finished a letter beginning, 
"My dear Gates — Entre nous, a certain great man is 
damnably deficient," when a party of British cavalry 
surrounded the house and summoned him to surrender. 
Within two minutes he came out, pale, unarmed, bare- 
headed, and begged the dragoons to spare his life. They 
seized him, and four minutes later hustled him off a 
prisoner. 

176 



IN THE JERSEYS 

The patriots' only hope now centred in Washington, 
and that hope was a forlorn one indeed. His retreat to 
Trenton had covered a period of eighteen days, he hoping 
that winter, with its snows and impassable roads, would 
soon prove his ally and definitely impede his enemy. 

But at Trenton, where he faced about with the Dela- 
ware behind him, he found that General Howe had joined 
Cornwallis with a new brigade. Before this strengthened 
foe he was forced to retreat again, beyond the river. 
This he accomplished just as the British arrived to see the 
last man over and to reahze that he had secured every 
boat for seventy miles up and down the river. 

But now only the waters of the Delaware lay between 
the British army and Philadelphia, where Congress was 
holding its sessions. So imminent did the danger seem 
that that body decided to adjourn to Baltimore; which it 
did. Howe, elated, returned to New York, and Corn- 
wallis, also sure of success, prepared to embark for Eng- 
land to announce that the rebelHon had been put down. 

He left General Count von Donop in command of the 
Hne along the Delaware, with headquarters at Borden- 
town. The country soon felt the curse of his Hessian 
troops. These had been promised an opportunity to 
plunder and now they took it. I have before me a 
"Brief Narrative of the Ravages" about Princeton and 
Trenton — a long and pitiful tale of what we should now 
call "atrocities" — a first-hand document, to which I shall 
have occasion to refer again. 

Von Donop gave to Colonel Rail (or Rahl, according to 

177 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

the original German spelling) the command of the Hes- 
sians at Trenton. For twelve days this officer domineered 
the town, parading his troops through the streets with 
music, and spending his evenings drinking the best wines 
at the house of Abraham Hunt, at the corner of State 
and Warren Streets. When told that Washington might 
attack him, he cried, "Let them come; we will at them 
with the bayonet," believing, as did every one, that the 
broad Delaware with its floating ice was an insuperable 
barrier between them. 

His troops were comfortably lodged in the town, for 
the most part in the two main streets — King and Queen, 
now Warren and Broad. His own grenadiers had their 
quarters in the jail, now a part of the Trenton Bank, 
and at the Blazing Star and Bull Head Taverns ad- 
joining; the regiment von Lossberg, with some of the 
artillery, occupied the Enghsh church, now enlarged 
and modernized and called St. Michael's; while the von 
Knyphausen regiment occupied the Presbyterian church 
and the houses surrounding it. The yagers and Tories 
were down in the old barracks that we shall visit pres- 
ently, and the British dragoons were quartered in the 
Quaker Meeting House, a quaint, gabled structure, still 
standing in Hanover Street. Thus, well housed and 
well fed, the Hessians went on with their preparations 
for a jolly German Christmas. 

How different the picture across the river ! 

The winter began with bitter cold and the ragged 
Continentals were sleeping on the hillsides by the Dela- 

178 



IN THE JERSEYS 

ware, without even a blanket to keep them warm. Des- 
titute of every comfort and even of the barest necessities, 
without shelter of any kind, they lay upon the frosty 
ground. But, hungry and cold, like Spartan heroes their 
spirits were equal to the test. 





The Point at Which Washington Crossed the Delaware River 

These slopes by the Delaware have not changed much 
since then. In a few minutes you may go by train from 
Trenton out to Washington's Crossing, as the station is 
now called. A couple of modest inns stand by the river 
which is spanned by a bridge, whose wooden superstruc- 
ture, since I drew it, has been replaced by one of iron. 
A long, narrow island divides the stream above it, and 
between this and the bridge was McKonkey's Ferry— 
the scene of W asliington's Crossing of the Delaware. 

179 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

On the New Jersey side of the river you will find a 
simple tablet bearing this inscription: 

This Tablet 

is erected by the Society of the Cincinnati 

in the State of New Jersey, 

to commemorate the Crossing of the Delaware River by 

General Washington and the Continental Army 

on Christmas night of 

Seventeen Hundred and Seventy Six. 

On the opposite bank, the Pennsylvania shore, where 
the little village of Taylorsville sleeps under the trees, 
you will find a companion memorial: 

Near this spot 

WASHINGTON 

Crossed the Delaware 

on Christmas Night, 1776, 

The eve of the Rattle of Trenton. 

Upon the dedication of these two monuments in 1895, 
General William S. Stryker delivered the principal ad- 
dress, a copy of which he gave me when I met him some 
years ago in Trenton — an impressive personality and a 
striking face, attorney-general of the State, an ardent 
patriot, and the efficient president of the Trenton Rattle 
Monument Association. I cannot do better, I feel, than 
quote from his oration, the scene preceding that Christ- 
mas eve of 1776: 

"The night shadows were creeping over the woods on 
Jericho Hill and the road from Neeley's mill to Newtown.* 

* Beyond Taylorsville, on the west bank of the Delaware. 
180 



IN THE JERSEYS 

In the doorway of Samuel Merrick's house on that well- 
traveled road stood a general officer of Washington's 
army, Hstening to the distant ring of horses' hoofs on 
the frozen ground. A moment later, General Greene's 
expected guests drew rein before him and he saluted his 
commander-in-chief. General Washington was attended 
by an aide-de-camp, the gallant Colonel Baylor, and six 
Philadelphia troopers as a body guard. He had ridden 
over to be present on this Christmas eve at a council of 
war to which he had called his leading commanders. A 
few moments after the arrival of Washington and his 
guard, a little group of officers was seen dismounting in 
the dooryard of the old stone house, and the courtly 
Stirhng, the best-dressed man in the army ; the brave and 
determined New Hampshire General Sullivan and the 
foreign adventurer, de Fermoy, * were welcomed from the 
doorstep by General Greene. Then, at short intervals, 
came the experienced soldier, St. Clair, t and the equally 
skilled Stephen; the devoted Virginian, Mercer; | Colonel 
Sargent of Massachusetts, and the sturdy mariner. 
Glover.** 

"After preparing supper for General Greene and his 
compatriots, the Merrick family left the house to the ex- 
clusive use of the council. The meal had just been an- 
nounced, when Colonel Stark, ft tall and straight as an 
Indian, and Colonel Knox, the artillerist, were admitted. 
The Reverend Doctor Alexander McWhorter, of Newark, 
pronounced grace at the supper of this important gather- 
ing of American military heroes. . . . 

* Later, commander of Fort Independence, Ticonderoga. 

t Whom we met at Ticonderoga. 

X Killed soon after at Princeton. 

** Commander of the men of Marblehead. 

tt The hero of Bennington. 

181 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

"The Commander-in-Chief laid before them his fully 
matured plan, so ingenious and yet so simple that all 
who read can grasp its military subtlety. To make the 
perilous crossing of the icy Delaware during the hours of 
darkness; to creep on the unwary Hessian foe in Tren- 
ton when Christmas wines and Christmas revelry had re- 
laxed their customary vigilance and made a dull watch; 
to throw them into helpless confusion by the suddenness 
of the attack, and by striking from three sides at once — 
this was the plan of action upon which Washington had 
decided as a bold stroke to retrieve his count i"y's fallen 
fortunes." 

"Christmas day, at night, one hour before day," was 
the time set for the attack on Trenton. 

Early Christmas morning Washington issued his or- 
ders for the march. Every detail had been carefully 
studied; and death was the penalty for quitting the ranks. 
The troops destined for the attack were paraded on the 
hill back of McKonkey's Ferry during the afternoon, and 
then moved toward the river. At dusk Washington and 
his staff arrived, and Colonel Knox, "with his stentorian 
voice," repeated the commands, which could be heard 
above the wind and the crunching of the ice. 

"When the boats were shoved off from the Pennsyl- 
vania shore and had reached the swift current, the jagged 
cakes of ice struck them repeatedly and severely, and it 
was with the greatest difficulty that they could be properly 
handled. The wind was high, and at eleven o'clock the 
air was filled with blinding snow. Then again, as once 
before, over the East River after the battle of Long Is- 

18-2 



IN THE JERSEYS 

land, and as he had promised at the council of war, Colonel 
John Glover and his magnificent Marblehead Regiment 
of sea-faring men did inestimable service in guiding the 
army over the dark and angry river." 

It had been hoped that the crossing would be com- 
pleted by midnight. But, as the Reverend Doctor Coo- 
ley tells us in a connnunication to the "State Gazette": 

"It was between 3 and 4 o'clock in the morning before 
all the artiUery and troops were over and ready to march. 
Many of the men were very destitute as regarded cloth- 
ing. The present Mr. George Muirhead, of Hopewell, 
informed the writer that he had noticed men whose pan- 
taloons were ragged and who had neither stockings nor 
shoes. The ground was covered with sleet, and snow 
was falling, although the day before there was no snow or 
only a little sprinkling on the ground. General Washing- 
ton (who had sat in silence on a bee-hive, wrapt in his 
cloak, while his troops were crossing) as they were about 
to march, enjoined upon all profound silence during their 
march to Trenton and said to them '/ hope you will all 
fight like men.'"" 

Then the ragged but glorious Continentals started on 
their nine-mile march. Their password was "\ictory or 
death." In the black night, against a biting northeaster, 
they struggled up to the Bear Tavern, thence by the Old 
River Road, through the hickory woods to Birmingham, 
where they made a hasty breakfast. When told that the 
priming powder in the flint-locks was becoming damp, 
General Sullivan replied laconically: "Well, boys, we 
must fight thein with the bayonet." 

183 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

In Trenton the Hessians had retired heavy with their 
Christmas revels. They maintained six outposts: one on 
the Pennington Road; one on the Brunswick Road; two 
on the River Road; and two on the bridges down by As- 
sanpink Creek. 




Map of Operations around Trenton and Princeion 



At Birmingham Washington spht his army in two di- 
visions. One, under General Sullivan, was to follow the 
River Road ; the other, under General Greene, to go by the 
Pennington Road, Washington himself accompanying the 
latter. This column was the first to come in contact with 
the Hessian pickets, who shouted, "Der Feind — Heraus ! 
Heraus!" and fell back to spread the alarm. Three 

184 



IN THE JERSEYS 

minutes later Sullivan's column struck the yager picket 
on the River Road and the Americans pushed into the 
town from both directions. 

Rail's grenadiers came tumbling out of their quarters 
into King Street, while the von Lossberg regiment formed 
in the graveyard, still quaint and secluded, in the rear of 
the Enghsh church. Colonel Rail, when he heard all 
this commotion, threw up his window, opposite the Eng- 
lish church, and, though still muddled with his wine, 
hurriedly dressed and, like the brave soldier that he was, 
threw himself upon his horse, galloped to the head of 
his regiment, and "started them on a run up King Street." 

Meanwliile Washington had taken up his position on 
the high ground just back of where the monument now 
stands, from which point of vantage he could command a 
view of everything that was going on in the low-built 
village of that day. From this same point Captain 
Alexander Hamilton opened fire with his battery down 
King Street, while Captain Thomas Forrest trained his 
guns down Queen Street. 

"Captain William Washington* and Lieutenant James 
Monroe, t perceiving that the enemy were endeavoring to 
form a battery in King Street, near where the feeder 
crosses the street, rushed forward with the advance 
guard, drove the artillerists from their guns and took 
from them two pieces which they were in the act of fir- 
ing. These officers were both wounded in this success- 
ful enterprise." J 

* The hero of the Cowpens. 

t Afterward President of the United States. 

j Reverend Doctor Cooley, in the " State Gazette." 

185 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

Rail's regiment was pushed back upon the von Loss- 
berg regiment. At each turn they met fresh Continentals. 
While Captain Forrest's guns created havoc among them, 
Mercer's brigade charged gallantly down Queen Street 
upon their broken ranks. Rrave Rail, whom his superiors 
called the "Hessian Lion," seeing every avenue of escape 
being cut off, rose in his stirrups and shouted: "All who 
are my grenadiers, forward!" Just then he was struck 
by a bullet and fell from his horse in Queen Street, while 
the Continentals pushed his two disorganized regiments 
into an apple orchard that lay near the Friends' Meeting 
House, where, realizing that they were now surrounded 
by greatly superior numbers, they lowered their standards 
and grounded their guns, while the officers put their hats 
on the points of their swords. 

General Stirhng rode forward and Lieutenant- Colonel 
SchefTer, then senior officer of the Hessian troops, sur- 
rendered his sword and his command to him. Some of 
the Hessians and most of the British dragoons escaped 
over the Assanpink Creek; others were able to join von 
Donop as he retreated from Bordentown, and a few more 
reached General Leslie at Princeton, but nearly a thou- 
sand men remained prisoners of war, while six brass can- 
non and fifteen colors were also taken. 

As one of his aide-de-camps rode up to him, Washing- 
ton exclaimed exultantly: "This is a glorious day for our 
country. Major Wilkinson!" As indeed it was! 

Later, "supported by a file of sergeants, Rail presented 
his sword to General Washington" and was taken to his 

186 



IN THE JERSEYS 

headquarters (Stacy Potts), where he died of his wounds. 
He was buried, with a number of his Hessians, in the old 
Presbyterian churchyard on State Street, their graves 
being now covered by a portion of the new edifice. 

Some of Trenton's Revolutionary landmarks have dis- 
appeared, others have been remodelled, but enough re- 
main to distinguish the historic spots. To visit them 
you should begin down by the Delaware River, where, in 
the shadow of the gilded dome of the State House, stand 
the old barracks, to which I have alluded, and in which 
the yagers were quartered. Built in 1758, they are now 
being restored to their original condition and already con- 
tain an interesting little museum, due to the zeal of the 
Old Barracks Association, a group of patriotic women of 
the community. 

You then walk over to Warren Street, and down to the 
Assanpink, which, though hemmed in by factories and 
mills, can still be seen — a brownish, busy strcEim, hasten- 
ing to join the Delaware. Beyond it the highway, bor- 
dered by old houses, leads off toward Bordentown, where 
von Donop lay. 

Now you follow up Warren Street (then King) toward 
the great monument that stands at its head. At the 
corner of State (then Second) Street stood the house of 
Abraham Hunt, where Rail spent most of his Christmas 
night drinking the rich merchant's good wine; and beyond, 
opposite Perry, where St. Mary's Cathedral now stands, 
were his headquarters, with the guard-house across the 
way. 

187 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

At the end of Warren Street you reach the monument, 
placed where the American artillery stood to command 
both King and Queen Streets which here diverge. Be- 
yond, to your left, stretches the Pennington Road, down 
which Washington came — then a country road but now 
a wide, paved street. 

Upon the high ground where the conmiander-in-chief 
stood to direct his attack the tall granite column of the 
monument rises, surmounted by his figure in bronze, 
dressed as Trumbull painted him, one arm outstretched, 
pointing down King Street, directing the fire of Alex- 
ander Hamilton's battery; the other hand holding his 
field-glass. At the east side of the doorway in the base 














Old King Street {now Warren Street), Trenton 

188 



IN THE JERSEYS 

of the monument, liis legs wide apart, stands a trooper 
of the Phihidelphia Light Horse in his picturesque uni- 
form, feehng the edge of liis sword. At the west side a 
Continental soldier, a member of Colonel Glover's regi- 
ment, one of those "fishermen of Marblehead," to quote 
General Knox in his speech to the Massachusetts legisla- 
ture, "alike at home upon land and water; alike ardent, 
patriotic, and unflinching whenever they unfurled the flag 
of their country" — the men who ferried the army over the 
icy Delaware. 

Then, if you descend Queen Street, now Broad, you 
can picture, among the constructions still standing, the 
house before which Hall was mortally wounded as he 
tried to rally his men. Turning down Hanover Street, 
you come upon the old Quaker Meeting House, above 
mentioned, with its tablet: 

The 

Meeting House 

was occupied by the 

British 

Light Dragoons 

December, 1776. 

Then, by crossing into State Street, you reach the Pres- 
byterian church, in whose graveyard Rail and his Hes- 
sians lie buried. 

And so our little Trenton pilgrimage is finished. We 
have seen all that, is left to evoke that Christmas day of 
1776 tliat meant so nuich to tlie patriots, turning for them 
the gloom of night into the bright hues of dawn — the day 

189 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

that wrung from Lord George Germaine, the British 
colonial minister, his bitter sentence, "All our hopes were 
blasted by the unhappy affair at Trenton" — the day that 
brought from the distinguished Italian historian, Carlo 
Botta, this eulogy: "All nations shared in the surprise of 
the Americans. All equally admired and applauded the 
prudence, the constancy, and noble intrepidity of General 
Washington. An unanimous voice proclaimed him the 
savior of his country; all extolled him as equal to the 
most celebrated commanders of antiquity. His name 
was in the mouth of all. All proclaimed him the Fabius 
of America." 



190 



II 

PRINCETON 

AFTER this signal success at Trenton, so in- 
/% spiriting to the Americans, Washington led his 
^ ^ little army triumphantly back, with their thou- 
sand prisoners and captured standards, to Newtown — a 
hard march indeed for the already wearied patriots, but 
their spirits were now buoyed up by the knowledge of 
work well done. After a few days' rest the commander- 
in-chief was back in Trenton, and by the first of the year 
was encamped upon the hills along the south side of the 
Assanpink beyond the bridge. 

At the news from Trenton CornwalHs had cancelled 
his sailing for England, and by Howe's orders now re- 
turned to New Jersey with all speed to crush Washing- 
ton. He took with him more than seven thousand of 
his best troops, he himself leading the advance. The 
situation again grew critical. Washington would not and 
could not retreat, for thus all the moral effect gained by 
his victory at Trenton would have been nullified. So he 
quietly awaited his enemy's coming. 

As CornwaUis advanced down the old turnpike from 
Princeton (the road the trolley now follows) he was met 
at Five Mile Creek, near Maidenhead (now charming 
Lawrenceville, with its pretty homes and verdant golf- 

191 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

links) by the fire of Colonel Hand's riflemen. When he 
reached Shebakunk Creek he had to bring up some can- 
non, so stifT was the resistance put up by Greene, who had 
advanced thus far and who was able to hold him in check 




r^M"" 












^f'' 






><^K.'^^i-^^^ 



X 



-^''^ii 




The Old Quaker Meeihig House, near Princefon 



just long enough to prevent him from attacking the main 
army that afternoon. 

When Cornwalhs found tliis out, he consoled hiinself 
by saying: "Never mind; I've got the old fox where I 
want him; I'll catch him in the morning." 

That night set in cold and the wet ground froze so that 
the roads were good and hard. Washington had thought 
out his plan — a plan by which he might avoid a battle 
with superior numbers and yet not lose prestige by a re- 
treat. His scouts had informed him that the British had 

192 



IN THE JERSEYS 

no pickets on the Old Quaker Road that leads from Tren- 
ton to Princeton via Sandtown. So he determined to 
take that road, pass round his enemy, cut off liis lines of 
communication, and, if possible, make a dash for the 
vast stores he had accumulated at Rrunswick. A coun- 
cil of war heartily approved this audacious plan. 

The camp-fires burned brightly; the sentries made their 
accustomed rounds so vigilantly that they completely 
deceived the British pickets only half a mile away. So 
the surprise and dismay of Cornwallis was complete when 
daybreak revealed an empty camp before liim, his ex- 
pected prey escaped, and heavy firing in his rear to tell 
him he had been outgeneralled. 

For, as early as sunrise, the Americans were entering 
Princeton. They had advanced to the Stony Brook, had 
crossed it over the bridge that preceded the one that I 
have drawn, and had halted near an old Quaker Meeting 




Stony Brook Bridge, near Princeton 



193 



Stony 13rook 

40 Miles to Phil ■ 
ji' Miles to N.York. 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

House, built of field-stone, that still stands in a secluded 
nook down by the little river. Here Washington re- 
formed his column, sending General Mercer with about 
five hundred men to destroy the bridge on the main turn- 
pike, and thus impede Cornwallis's return. 

This detachment quickly came in contact with two 
regiments of British that were just setting out to join 
CornwalHs. Mutually surprised, both forces played for 
position on some high ground centring round the farms of 
two brothers, William and Thomas Clark. 

In the Hbrary of the University of Princeton I was 
shown a curious account of the battle that followed — a 
worn, frayed manuscript, stained with brown spots and 
broken into holes where it had been folded, and found 
among General Stryker's papers. The narrator's iden- 
tity is not known, but he stood near enough to the battle 
to give us this eye-witness's account of it: 

"As soon as it was light we saw the Regulars that was 
left at Princeton Marching toward Trenton and in about 
half a hour's time we saw them comeing back faster then 
they went; a Party of them came into our Field and laid 
down their Packs there and formed at the corner of our 
Garden about 60 yards from the door and then marcht 
away immediately to the field of Battle which was in 
William Clarks wheat field and Orchard Round about his 
house and how much further to the westard I know not. 
It was plain within sight of our door at about 400 Yards 
distance. . . . 

"Before any Gun was heard a man was seen to fall 
and Immediately the Report and Smoke of a Gun was 

194 



IN THE JERSEYS 

Seen and Heard. And the guns went of so quick and 
many together that they could not be numbered, we 
Presently went down into the Cellar to keep out of the 
Way of the Shot. . . . Ahnost as soon as the firing was 
over our house was filled and surrounded with Gen'. 
Washington's Men, and he himself on horseback at the 
door. They brought in with them on their Shoulders 
two Wounded Regulars. . . . They was both Used very 
tenderly by the Rebels (as they call them). . . . 

"As soon as the battle was over Gen'. Mercer (who 
had his horse shot down under him, and then received 
several wounds by which in some days after he dyed) was 
carryed into Thomas Clark's house with several other 
wounded men, And above Twenty was carried into Wil- 
liam Clark's house. . . . 

"Immediately after the Battle (as I said before) Gen'. 
Washington's Men came into our house Though they 
were both hungry and thirsty some of them laughing out 
right, others smileing, and not a man among them but 
showed Joy in the Countenance. It really Animated my 
old blood with Love to those men that but a few minutes 
before had been Couragiously looking Death in the face 
in Releiving a part of their Country from the Barbarous 
Insults and Ravages of a bold and Dareing Enemy." 

A crude but human picture certainly. To make it 
vivid you should go down to the battle-field itself and see 
the place as he saw it. On the way you pass stately 
Morven, the home of Richard Stockton, and used by 
Cornwallis as his headquarters. Then, beyond other 
handsome country houses, you reach the Pyne estate, 
where you turn from the main highway down the Old 
Post Road. 

195 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

The "narrator"' that I have just quoted stood about 
half-way down to the bridge. To his left occurred the first 
encounter between Mercer's troops, supported by Cap- 
tain Neal's battery of two guns, and the two British regi- 
ments that were starting for Trenton but had turned back, 
as he describes, upon seeing the hght flashing on the 
bayonets of the Americans. Both parties were surprised. 
The Americans got under cover of a rail fence in William 
Clark's orchard near liis house. And, when the firing be- 
gan behind it, our narrator went into his cellar ! 

After the third volley the British charged and the 
Americans retreated in disorder. Their officers, unwiUing 
to yield, remained behind, trying to rally their men, and 
thus a number of these gallant men fell : Captain Neal, by 
his guns; Captain Fleming of the Virginians; Haslet, 
colonel of the Delaware regiment, and General Mercer 
himself, who, as the narrator recounts, "having had his 
horse shot down under him," was wounded, knocked 
down, bayonetted, and left for dead. 

Tliis last episode Trumbull has made the subject of 
his famous painting of the "Battle of Princeton," the 
precious sketches for wliich. in pen and lavis, hang in the 
University library, showing different elements of the com- 
position shifted a number of times before the final ar- 
rangement was adopted. 

A pile of cannon-baUs on the battle-field now marks 
the spot where Mercer fell. Near it still stands the house 
of Thomas Clark, to which he was carried and in which 
he died. 

196 



IN THE JERSEYS 

A flagpole and a little monument were erected here in 
1897 by the Mercer Engine Company of Princeton. The 
tablet was unveiled by Master Hugh Mercer, great- 



., v* 




l\^.^> 



- AV 



■'^^^ 



House and Boom in Which 
General fiercer Died 



J 



great-grandson of 
^3 the general, and the 

^ address upon this oc- 

casion was delivered 
by Professor Henry C. Cameron, of Princeton Uni- 
versity, a close student of Princeton's history. Profes- 
sor Cameron presented me with a copy of this speech 
and from it I quote the next episode — the chmax of 
the battle. 

197 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

As we have seen, the Americans were retreating in dis- 
order when, 

"upon hearing the fire, Washington sent the Pennsyl- 
A^ania mihtia and Moulder's battery to the assistance of 
Mercer. The flight of the Americans was stopped and 
the Rritish pursuit arrested, but their artillery caused the 
militia to hesitate. Washington now appeared in person, 
comprehended the situation at a glance, and putting 
spurs to his horse, he dashed past the militia, galloped 
to the front of his wavering troops and with connnand- 
ing voice cheered them on. . . . 

"Washington seemed reckless of all danger; never was 
he in greater peril for he was between the lines. Rein- 
ing up his horse with head to the enemy, he sat im- 
movable, exposed to the fire of both armies and escape 
from death seemed impossible. 

"His aid. Colonel Fitzgerald, who often told the story 
to one whom I remember in my boyhood, covered his 
eyes with liis hat that he might not witness the death of 
his beloved chief. A roar of musketry follows, the gal- 
lant Hitchcock's Rhode Island regiment on the right 
and the 7th Virginia, with cheers, and other Continentals 
swing into line on the left, the enemy breaks and flies as 
the shout of victory arises from the American army. 
Washington's aid ventured to look, and, as the smoke of 
battle lifted, he beheld him safe; galloped to his side ex- 
claiming, 'Thank God, your Excellency is safe,' and re- 
ceived the order, 'Away, my dear Colonel, bring up the 
men, the day is our own.' " 

The Rritish 55th made a last determined stand near 
Nassau Hall, but a few cannon-balls and superior num- 

198 



IN THE JERSEYS 

bers finally dislodged them and they retreated toward 
New Brunswick. 

Nassau Hall, around which still centre the University's 
traditions, fits, in essentials, the old descriptions of it. 
But you will admit that there have been changes in it 
and its surroundings since the days of the Revolution 
when you chance to read such an account as that given 
by a French traveller of distinction, Moreau de St. 
Mery, who wrote his "Voyage aux Etats-Unis d'Ame- 
rique," in the latter years of the eighteenth century. 

He tells us that about eighty houses, some of them of 
brick, then bordered the road in Princeton. 




J^^ft 



^*"^t 



Nas.oaii Hall, Princeton 



199 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

"On voit dans cette ville une eglise presbyterienne et 
un college; ce dernier exige que nous nous arretions pour 
en parler, comme nous avons fait pour le visiter." 

So he describes Old Nassau, giving its measurements 
correctly, but also telKng us that the forecourt was dirty 
and full of the dung of animals that grazed there. In its 
dormitory were forty-two rooms, each for tliree students, 
and there were a chapel, a refectory, and a library of 
about two hundred volumes; while on the ground floor, 
opposite the principal door (just where it is to-day), was 
a large hall, "garnie de bancs." 

On entering this hall one saw to the right a picture 
about eight feet high — a full-length portrait of General 
Washington. "Quoique la peinture de ce tableau ne soit 
pas sans merite, on pent neanmoins y critiquer trois 
choses." And he goes on to enumerate his three criti- 
cisms: first, Washington holds his hat in his hand while 
commanding in battle; second, Mercer scarcely seems to 
be suffering enough; and third, the aides-de-camp do not 
appear to be sufficiently concerned with their dying 
general. 

The picture thus described is Charles Wilson Peale's 
well-known portrait of Washington that still hangs in 
this very hall. It has a curious history. In its place, in 
a handsome frame, prior to the battle of Princeton, hung 
a portrait of George III. One of the cannon-balls fired 
by the American troops in the brief engagement round 
Nassau Hall pierced the wall of the structure and took 
off the King's head. Washington, when he heard of this 

200 



IN THE JERSEYS 

occurrence, wishing to make good the loss to the col- 
lege, generously gave from his private purse the sum of 
two hundred and fifty dollars to help replace it. The 
board of trustees, not wanting another portrait of the 
King, commissioned Peale to paint the portrait that we 
now see hanging in the identical frame that once sur- 
rounded his Majesty's hkeness. 

I do not agree with all of M. de St. Mery's strictures, 
for I consider that the dying Mercer's head (said to have 
been painted from a brother who closely resembled the 
general) is an exceptionally able piece of painting, im- 
printed with a pathos and depth of suffering rarely seen 
in official portraiture. In the background one catches a 
glimpse of Nassau Hall itself, round which the battle 
rages. 

While in the venerable shadow of Old Nassau I cannot 
refrain from giving an extract from the quaint diary of 
one of its students — a "campaign journal" as he calls it 
— in which he recounts the events immediately preced- 
ing the battle: 

"On the 29th of November, 1776, New Jersey College, 
long the peaceful seat of science and haunt of the Muses, 
was visited with the melancholy tidings of the approach 
of the enemy. 

"This alarmed our fears and gave us reason to believe 
we must soon bid adieu to our peaceful Departments and 
break off in the midst of our dehghtful studies; nor were 
we long held in suspense; our worthy President, deeply 
affected at the solemn scene entered the Hall, where the 
students were collected, and in a very affecting manner, 

201 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

informed us of the improbability of continuing them 
longer in peace. . . . Solemnity and distress appeared 
on almost every countenance." 

The president, to whom he alludes, was the Reverend 
Doctor John Witherspoon, whose grim portrait, with 
Bible in hand, still hangs in the hall. He was the only 
minister of the gospel in the Continental Congress, and 
when other of its members hesitated to sign the Declara- 
tion of Independence, he stepped forward courageously 
and said: "That noble instrument upon your table which 
secures immortality to its author, should be subscribed 
this very morning by every pen in this house. He who 
will not respond to its accents is unworthy the name of 
freeman." 

Later on, in August, 1783, the Continental Congress 
held its sessions here in Old Nassau and summoned before 
it General George Washington to thank him officially 
upon the successful issue of the war in which he had 
"acted so conspicuous a part." 

From that time until the following November Wash- 
ington resided at Rocky Hill, a few miles distant, and, 
while there, wrote his "Farewell Orders," as they were 
called, but better known as his "Farewell Address to the 
Armies of the United States," which he dated "Rocky 
Hill, near Princeton, November 2, 1783." The white 
clapboarded house in which he then resided is still 
standing a few miles from the town. To visit it you take 
the Brunswick turnpike and follow the Old Post Road 
from Philadelphia to New York, over the very same 

202 



IN THE JERSEYS 

route that the Americans took after the battle of Prince- 
ton, 

Rocky Hill stands on an eminence just off tliis road, 
dominating a wide expanse of beautiful Jersey landscape, 
soft and green as a bit of rural England. The house is 
piously preserved as a museum, and the room, opening on 
the upper porch, in which the address was written, is still 
shown. 

In January, 1777, well pleased with his successes at 
Trenton and Princeton, Washington pushed on to Pluck- 
aniin and thence to the high ground about Morristown, 
where he went uito winter quarters until the following 
May. 



203 



Ill 

MORRISTOWN 

MORRISTOWN to-day is very well known as 
one of the most agreeable towns round about 
New York. Just too iai from the metropolis 
to be called suburban, it possesses the handsome homes 
and extensive estates of a number of New Yorkers who, 
wishing to be sufficiently near the metropolis to enjoy its 
advantages, yet desire to live in the country and partake 
of the pleasures afforded by fine golf-links, riding to 
hounds, beagling, and other gentlemen's pastimes. 

In Revolutionary days it centred round a green, placed 
where its three principal streets — Morris, Water, and 
South — converged and about which clustered most of its 
fifty-seven houses and its two hundred and fifty in- 
habitants. Its strategic position, perched as it is upon 
steep hillsides and dominated by Kemble Mountain, as 
well as the fine rich valleys about it that made provision- 
ing more easy, twice made it Washington's choice for 
winter quarters. 

We have just followed him hither for the first time in 
January, 1777. He, on that occasion, took up his head- 
quarters in the old Arnold or Freeman Tavern that used 
to stand where the United States Hotel now fronts upon 

204 



IN THE JERSEYS 

the main square. This first winter passed abnost without 
incident. But as spring advanced the British tried to 
entice him down from his hillsides and lead him into a 
decisive battle. Instead of lending himself to their 
manoeuvres, he threw out skirmishing parties and raised 
the Jersey militia to harass them as much as possible 
and with excellent results. 

The Princeton student, whom I have before quoted, 
joined the Amwell militia and took part in many of these 
forays. In one of his later papers he thus describes what 
they did: 

"The enemy had, some days before this, removed from 
Brunswick to Millstone, near the Court House and it 
was thought would make an attempt on Philadelphia. 
This roused the Militia of all the neighboring counties 
and they turned out with such spirit as will do them 
honor to the latest ages. Never did the Jerseys appear 
more universally unanimous to oppose the Enemy; they 
turned out Old and young, great and small. Rich and 
poor; Scarcely a man that could carry a musket was left 
at home. . . . 

"The British then fled with greatest haste to Bruns- 
wick; but the Militia pursued them so closely and so 
warmly, that they made no stay there. On Sunday morn- 
ing, June 22nd, they were driven out of the Town, and 
chased near to Amboy by the spirited Mihtia. . . . 
Thursday, June, 26. the enemy came out with their whole 
Body from Amboy and proceeded to Westfield, where 
they plundered and destroyed everything before them 
and distressed the Inhabitants in a manner before un- 
heard of, but before they returned to Amboy numbers of 

205 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

them were cut off by part of our army, and some Militia. 
They returned to Amboy, and on Monday evening, June 
the 30th, 1777, they all left Amboy and went to Staten 
Island." 

Thus were the Jerseys freed from the enemy, and thus 
did Washington, without a battle, again make himself 
master of the State. Thus "the British army, after hav- 
ing overrun victoriously the whole of New Jersey quite 
to the Delaware, and caused even the city of Philadel- 
phia to tremble for its safety, found itself now restricted 
to the two posts of Brunswick and Amboy. Thus by an 
army almost reduced to extremity, Philadelphia was 
saved, Pennsylvania protected, New Jersey nearly re- 
covered, and a vigorous and powerful army laid under the 
necessity of quitting all thoughts of acting offensively."* 

The second time the American army wintered in Morris- 
town was two years later. On that occasion they were 
better housed. Log huts were built, sixteen feet long 
and just high enough for a man to stand erect, and each 
provided with ten or twelve bunks. Washington had 
issued strict orders that "any hut not exactly conformable 
to the plan or the least out of line, should be pulled down 
and built again." The result was a model camp, so reg- 
ular that a visitor narrates that "the encampments are 
exceedingly neat; the huts are all of a size and placed in 
more exact order than Philadelphia. You would be sur- 
prised to see how well built they are without nails." 

There were about ten thousand men in the army that 

* Botla. 
206 



IN THE JERSEYS 

year. The park of artillery was nearest to town, lying 
upon the slope of a hill " along the present Mendham road 
just beyond the city hmits where the road turns sharply 
to the left." Doctor Emory McClintock has carefully 
studied the topography of this camp and, in a paper read 




Washington's Headquarters, Morristown 



before the Washington Association of New Jersey, describes 
the location of each brigade around Kemble Mountain. 

The summit of this high hill being visible from most of 
these encampments, as well as from headquarters, it was 
chosen as the camp alarm station with orders to fire its 
two guns at the first signal of an enemy's approach. 

Washington's headquarters that winter were in the 

207 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

house of Colonel Jacob Ford's widow, a fine mansion 
built of brick, covered over with planks, painted white, 
but not clapboarded, being laid edge to edge. It still 
stands but a short mile from the green out on the Newark 
turnpike. A refined and aristocratic air pervades it, 
set as it is upon broad lawns, quite free from neighboring 
houses. Its halls are spacious; its rooms large and fin- 
ished with well-designed woodwork of the usual Colonial 
pattern. It is now arranged as a museum and is, I think, 
after Mount Vernon and the National Museum in Wash- 
ington, the richest that I have seen in souvenirs and 
rehcs of our national hero. 

The drawing-room is hung with portraits of him; be- 
hind it the room that he used as his office still contains 
his desk and other articles that belonged to the original 
Ford furniture. On the wall hangs Erskine's plan of the 
Morristown encampment, prepared under Washington's 
own direction. Adjoining this office was that of his chief 
secretary, Alexander Hamilton. These rooms lie to the 
left of the main hall ; to its right are the dining-room and 
several smaller apartments, with the kitchen beyond — a 
kitchen sadly overfilled with a variety of ticketed utensils 
donated by patriotic women. The hall up-stairs is de- 
voted to arms and uniforms. 

The bedroom on the east front is the one that General 
Washington and his lady occupied during that winter. 
There are a few small objects in it that were there at the 
time and a fragment of the handsome carpet that he trod, 
framed and under glass, hangs upon the wall. 

208 



IN THE JERSEYS 

But the articles that recall liim most are those in a 
room across the hall: the clothes, sword, and accessories 
that he wore on the evening of his inauguration. The 
quiet suit, cut in the familiar pattern, is made of a finely 
woven ribbed silk, brownish gray in color and ornamented 
with large buttons covered to match. A knee-buckle, 
set with brilhants, and a pair of shoe-buckles of simpler 
pattern impart a touch of elegance to the costume. The 
dress sword is the one known as the Darke sword, because 
given him by liis old friend, Major-General William Darke. 

In the case with these articles are some of Martha 
Washington's slippers, one high-heeled pair, white; an- 
other, pale blue. Scattered throughout the house, with 
many articles of doubtful authenticity, are others of the 
highest historic interest, as, for example, the original 
letter written by Captain John Van Dyk concerning 
Andre's execution — to which I have referred in another 
chapter. You will find also finely tailored uniforms of 
British officers; the peaked hats of Hessian grenadiers; 
and knapsacks embellished with the familiar G. R. mon- 
ogram, as well as numerous articles that once belonged 
to women of the period, such as shell combs, scarfs, an 
ear-trumpet that really is a trumpet, bonnets of leghorn 
and bonnets of silk, fans, rings, bracelets, and a curious 
sewing-bird that, screwed to a table, used to hold my 
lady's work within its beak. 

Life here at the Morristown headquarters had its 
alarms that winter and its pleasures. The alarms were, 
for the most part, unnecessary, for no enemy came to 

209 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

molest the army, but they were extremely annoying to 
the two ladies of the household, Mrs. Washington and 
Mrs. Ford, whose rooms, with the others, were invaded by 
the soldiers of Washington's life-guard, who threw up the 
windows, ready to repel any attack, while the ladies re- 
tired behind the curtains of their beds. 

The life-guards, of whom there were two hundred and 
fifty, commanded by General Colfax, were quartered in 
log huts erected for them on the southeast lawn. Elijah 
Fisher, whose quaint "Journal" I quoted at Saratoga, 
was one of them and enjoyed his winter very much, for 
he says he "liked being there better than being in the 
Ridgment let them go where they would." 

And certainly life had its diversions. Count Pulaski 
exercised his cavalry in the meadow below the house 
and gave exhibitions of daring Polish horsemanship that 
filled the young officers with en^^. Here, too, presum- 
ably, "a young braggadocia of the army," anxious to 
emulate the Polish count's example, asked the privilege 
of breaking a spirited colt that Washington had just 
bought. His Excellency gave his consent and the young 
fellow mounted the horse, retaining his seat but a mo- 
ment or two when his fiery mount threw up his heels, 
hurling his rider over his head and landing him in such 
ludicrous fashion that Washington "was so convulsed 
with laughter, that the tears ran down his cheeks."* 

Distinguished visitors came and went. The new French 
minister, the Chevalier de Luzerne, was welcomed and 

* Notes of the Reverend Mr. Tuttle. (Irving, " Life of Washington.") 

210 



IN THE JERSEYS 

made a lengthy stay, numerous reviews and a handsome 
ball being given in his honor. Here occurred the funeral 
of his friend, Don Juan de Miralles, who died of a pul- 
monic fever and was buried in Spanish fashion with great 
pomp, Washington and his generals walking as chief 
mourners. Here, too, again to quote Elijah Fisher, "the 
Ingen chief come to Head Quarters to Congratelate with 
His Exelency and also Dined with him." 

Another pleasing picture connected with that long 
winter is afforded by Alexander Hamilton's courtship. 
The house wherein it took place still stands just off the 
main road between headquarters and the town — a simple 
homestead that has now been moved so as to face a side 
street. It was the residence at that time of Doctor Jabez 
Campfield, and in it that winter dwelt the Surgeon-Gen- 
eral, John Cochran. His wife was a sister of General 
Schuyler and the general's daughter Ehzabeth, a charm- 
ing girl of twenty-two, was visiting her aunt. Colonel 
Hamilton, who, as I have said, was Washington's chief 
secretary, met her often and became so interested in her 
that he spent most of his evenings in her society. So we 
can picture him, as he is described, returning to head- 
quarters in the moonlight, his mind so full of romantic 
thoughts of her whom he had just left and was to marry 
in the following year, that he completely forgot the 
countersign. The sentry, obdurate, though he recog- 
nized his Excellency's aide-de-camp, refused to let him 
pass until a friend had prompted him and restored to liis 
wandering thoughts the cabalistic word. 

211 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

These were the hghter touches in a very sombre winter. 
In January the snow was from four to five feet deep and 
the cold intense. The sufferings of the ill-clothed troops 
were terrible. As usual, Washington's sympathy went 
out to his men and he tried in every way to alleviate 
their misery, but with httle real success, as he thus writes 
to a friend: "We have had the virtue and patience of 
the army put to the severest trial. Sometimes it has been 
five or six days together without bread, at other times as 
many without meat and once or twice two or three days 
without either. ... As an army they bore it with the 
most heroic patience; but sufferings like these, accom- 
panied by the want of clothes, blankets, &c., will produce 
frequent desertions in all armies ; and so it happened with 
us, though it did not excite a single mutiny." 



212 



ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 



ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 

I 
CHADD'S FORD AND THE BRANDYWINE 

OUR next visits will be paid to the historic lo- 
calities in the vicinity of Philadelphia, whither 
the seat of war now shifted. 

During the early half of 1777 Washington, as we have 
seen, had been able to free New Jersey from British 
forces and, as the summer ended, he was intently watch- 
ing the movements of General Howe in New York. 
There lay the difficult problem. Would the British com- 
mander-in-chief ascend the Hudson to attempt to join 
Burgoyne or would he move south upon Philadelphia.^ 

This city — the capital of the colonies — had been men- 
aced once before just prior to the battle of Trenton and 
now, after a period of doubt, Howe decided to attack it 
again, as, to use his own words, the capture of Philadel- 
phia seemed "the surest road to peace and the defeat of 
the regular rebel army." 

So he embarked an imposing expedition early in July, 
and set sail from Sandy Hook on the 23d of that month, 
arriving off Cape Henlopen on the 30th, His intention 
had been to ascend Delaware Bay and disembark his 
army somewhere near Wilmington, but he found that 

215 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

Washington had forestalled him by establishing a strong 
water-guard on the Delaware; by placing floating bat- 
teries in it; and by marching his main army down to 
Wilmington. In the face of such serious opposition, 
Howe realized that it would be impossible successfully 
to land his army. 

So he was forced to put to sea again with his great 
fleet. His withdrawal perplexed Washington, for nothing 
was heard of him for some time. A council of officers 
had just unanimously decided that he had sailed for 
Charleston, when a message came from John Hancock, 
president of Congress, that "near two hundred of General 
Howe's fleet was at anchor in the Chesapeake Bay." 

Washington, foreseeing the next move, was busy 
again. On the 22d of August he visited the defenses at 
Mud Island, Red Bank, and Billingsport, forts in the 
Delaware below Philadelphia, and, three days later, made 
"a Reconnoitre to the Head of Elk with a large party of 
Horse," as his account-book tells us. 

The Head of Elk is at the extreme north end of the 
Chesapeake Bay. It is now known as Elkton, and lies 
on the main railway line between Philadelphia and Bal- 
timore. 

The British fleet sailed up the Chesapeake as far as 
Turkey Point, ten miles below the Head of Elk, and there 
disembarked the entire army, eighteen thousand strong. 
And a day or two later, this army was at the Head of 
Elk, only fifty-four miles from Philadelphia. 

Washington was determined to oppose its further ad- 

216 



ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 



vance, strong as it was. His own army only numbered 
about eleven thousand and many of these were raw re- 
cruits, but he considered that even a lost battle would be 
less dispiriting to the soldiers and the colonies than an 




Map of Vicinity of Pkiladelphia 

unopposed march of the British into Philadelphia. So 
on the 9th of September he took up a position, selected 
by General Greene, along the east bank of the Bran- 
dywine, a considerable stream that flows down to join 
the Delaware at Wilmington. Slight intrenchments were 
thrown up and Washington made his own headquarters 
in the village called Chadd's Ford. 

217 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

I spent a summer in this village some years ago. 
Though the woods described in the Revolutionary ac- 
counts have largely disappeared, and are now replaced by 
open meadows and pasturelands, with here and there 
lines and clusters of handsome trees, many of the quaint 
old houses and mills yet remain as well as a number of 
those fine old stone barns that give such a distinctive 
note to the landscape — massive structures, usually placed 
on hill-slopes so that the wagons can drive into the upper 
story from the rear. 

I stayed at a little inn kept by Quakers (many of the 
inhabitants hereabout are still Friends), and well kept, 
too, and in it, that season, were a group of New York 
artists out for their summer sketching, 

LTp the road, beyond Washington's headquarters, 
lived Howard Pyle, who had brought with him a special 
class of pupils from Wilmington and Philadelphia, several 
of whom now rank among our foremost illustrators. 
Mr, Pyle and I were both engaged upon illustrations 
for the same book and this was a bond between us which 
soon ripened into a good friendship. In his buggy he 
used to stop for me at the inn and we went sketcliing 
together up the valley of the Rrandywine or over the 
hill toward the Rirmingham Meeting House. 

Those were delightful afternoons and the memory of 
them lingers as a precious reminiscence, for he was an 
exceptional man — stalwart and healthy and fine in mind 
as in body. He was, of course, as his work always showed, 
a very close student of the Revolutionary period, and his 

218 



ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 

life was tinged with the flavor of that epoch. So, when I 
think of Chadd's Ford I love to recall his manly voice 
singing the martial ballads that he liked— the "British 
Grenadier," "Rule Britannia," and others of that ilk— 




Washington's Headquarters, near Chadd's Ford 



and his personality is closely linked in my mind with 
memories of the battle of the Brandywine, for our excur- 
sions together afford a vivid background for it. 

As I have said, Washington took up his quarters at 
Chadd's Ford on the 9th of September. 

219 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

That same afternoon General Knyphausen, with the 
Hessians, marched into New Garden and Kennett Square, 
on the opposite bank of the river, though a few miles dis- 
tant from it. In this vicinity there were several fords 
along the Rrandywine, by any one of which an army 
could pass: Chadd's, directly between the two hostile 
camps; Pyle's, below; Rrinton's and others, above. On 
the following morning Cornwallis joined Kynphausen, 
accompanied by the commander-in-chief, General Howe. 
Thus, by the night of the 10th of September, the two 
armies lay watching each other. Washington thought he 
had picketed all the fords up and down the river, and so 
was facing only the possibility of a frontal attack. 

Early on the morning of the 11th skirmishing began 
along the Brandywine, parties of Americans crossing 
and engaging the enemy, who drove them back. Knyp- 
hausen then brought up artillery and began bombarding 
the main American lines as if preparatory to a concen- 
trated attack. 

Meanwhile, unknown to Washington, Cornwallis, with 
General Howe himself and about five thousand troops, 
had made a long detour up the river, crossed its two 
feeders by small fords, and was even now coming down 
from Sconneltown by a road that led to the Birmingham 
Meeting House, in the rear of the American army. Though 
discovered at one time by an American patrol, this column 
had not been definitely located as it passed through the 
dense woods, and the surprise of its sudden appearance 
was complete. Tliis surprise and the events that followed 

220 



ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 

are graphically told in a statement by Joseph Townsend, 
a Quaker who lived up near Sconneltown and saw the 
battle that he thus describes : * 







Lafayette s Headquarters, near Chadd's Ford 

"At that time I resided at my father's, the place of my 
nativity, adjoining to the ground where West Chester now 
stands. ... A majority of the inhabitants were of the 
Society of Friends, who could not consistently with their 
principles take any part in the war, and who generally 
believed it right to remain in their dwellings, and patiently 
submit to whatever suffering might be their lot. . . , 

* "Bulletin of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania," vol. I, 1845-7. 

221 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

"General Washington had his head quarters at Ben- 
jamin Rings' who resided near the east end of Chadd's 
ford, and General La Fayette was near at hand in the 
neighborhood.* They were frequently together, which 
afforded an opportunity to spectators to view them both 
at the same time. ..." 

He then describes the disposition of the two armies, as 
I have done, and the skirmishing on the morning of the 
11th of September. Then, "possessed of curiosity and 
fond of new things," with his brother he rode "along side 
of the Brandy wine for some distance, to discover the ap- 
proach of the British army." But, seeing nothing, they 
went to a Friends' meeting up at Sconneltown and while 
there heard a disturbance outside. 

"On our coming out of the house, and making some in- 
quiry of what had happened, found it to be an alarm 
among some of the neighboring women, that the English 
army was coming, and that they murdered all before 
them, young and old. Some of us endeavored to quiet 
their fears by telling them it was not likely to be the 
case . . . and while we were reasoning with them, our 
eyes were caught on a sudden by the appearance of the 
army coming out of the woods into the fields belonging 
to Emmor Jefferis, on the west side of the creek above 
the fording placet Ii^ ^ f^w minutes the fields were 
literally covered with them, and they were hastening 
towards us. Their arms and bayonets being raised, 

* Both headquarters still stand quite close together on the main road. 
Lafayette had just been commissioned a volunteer major-general, and 
this was the first action in which he participated. 

t Jeffery's Ford. 

222 



ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 

shone as bright as silver, there being a clear sky and 
the day exceedingly warm. Recollecting that there was 
no one at our dwelling, except some of our sisters, we 
concluded it advisable to return home as expeditiously as 
possible." 

But the British changed their direction at Sconnel- 
town and headed down toward the Birmingham Meeting 
House, so 

"being disposed to have a better and a nearer view, we 
set out for the purpose and passing by the dwelling of 
Abel Boake, we soon met Sarah, his wife, who had been 
as curious as ourselves and had l)een among the soldiers 
as they marched along. . . . She encouraged our go- 
ing amongst them, at the same time admiring their ap- 
pearance and saying what fine looking fellows they 
were, and to use her own expression 'they were some- 
thing Hke an army.' " 

So the brothers went to have a nearer view and to 
talk to the officers, who seemed glad to see them — for, I 
suspect, the two had Tory leanings, as most of the 
Quakers did. 

"They inquired what sort of a man Mr. Washington 
was. My brother had a knowledge of him by being with 
him at his quarters at Chadd's Ford, and rephed that he 
was a stately, well-proportioned, fine-looking man, of 
great ability, firm and resolute, of a social disposition 
and was considered to be a good man. 

"One of the officers then observed to me in some rap- 
ture 'you have got a hell of a fine country here, which 

223 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

we have found to be the case ever since we landed at 
the head of Elk." 

"The house we were in was elevated, so that on the 
first floor where we stood we had a pretty full view of 
the army as they progressed along; and while we were 
conversing together, my brother called on me to step 
to the door and see General Lord Cornwallis, who was 
passing by. He was on horseback, appeared tall and sat 
very erect. His rich scarlet clothing, loaded with gold 
lace, epaulets, etc., occasioned him to make a brilliant 
and martial appearance. ... It may be observed that 
most or all of the officers who conversed with us, were of 
first rank, and were rather short, portly men, were well 
dressed and of genteel appearance, and did not look as 
if they had ever been exposed to any hardship; their 
skins being as white and delicate as is customary for 
females who were brought up in large cities or towns." 

When the main action began, our friend retired to a 
hill, where 

"in Samuel Osborn's field a number of my acquaintances 
were standing near a considerable number of persons on 
horseback and viewing them. ... It appeared that 
those on horseback were some of the principal officers of 
the British army with their aids, who had collected to- 
gether to consult respecting carrying on the engage- 
ment to the best advantage. Among them was General 
Howe. He was mounted on a large English horse much 
reduced in flesh, I suppose from being so long con- 
fined on board the fleet. . . . The general was a large 
portly man, of coarse features. He appeared to have 
lost his teeth, as his mouth had fallen in. As I stood 
alongside, I had a full opportunity of viewing him as he 

224 



ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 

sat on horseback, and had to observe his large legs and 
boots, with flourishing spurs thereon. 

"While the officers were in consultation, and we view- 
ing them together with the smoke issuing from the can- 
non and musketry, we heard a tremendous roaring of 



^Y^ 






lURMINGHAM 

MEETING-HOl SE 




Birmingham Meeting House, near L'hadd's Ford 



cannon, and saw the volume of smoke arising therefrom 
at Chadd's Ford. General Knyphausen having discov- 
ered that the engagement was on with the front of Howe's 
army at the Meeting House, he immediately forced the 
troops under his command across the Brandywine, and 
the whole of General Washington's army in that station 
were routed from their breastworks. . . . From these 
circumstances General Washington concluded it prudent 
to effect a retreat wliich took place accordingly. 

225 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

"While we remained on Osborne's hill, we had the op- 
portunity of making many observations, — the engage- 
ment of both armies — the fields in front of us containing 
great heaps of blankets and baggage, thrown together to 
relieve the men for action — the regular march of the 
British army, consisting of horse and foot, artillery, bag- 
gage and provision wagons, arms and ammunition, to- 
gether with a host of plunderers and rabble that accom- 
panied the army. Almost the whole face of the country 
around appeared to be covered and alive with these ob- 
jects. Their march continued about four hours. 

"We remained on the hill for some time, and when 
the engagement appeared to be nearly over or at least 
that part of it which was in view, and the day being on 
the decline, we were about retiring; but as admiration 
and curiosity had been the order of the day, I proposed 
to some of my companions that we should go over the 
field of battle and take a view of the dead and wound- 
ed, as we might never have such another opportunity. 
Some of them consented, and others with some reluc- 
tance yielded. We hastened thither and awful was the 
scene to behold — such a number of fellow beings lying 
together severely wounded and some mortally — a few 
dead, but a small proportion of them considering the 
quantity of powder and ball that had been discharged. 
It was now time for the surgeons to exert themselves, 
and divers of them were busily employed. Some of the 
doors of the meeting house were torn off and the wounded 
carried thereon into the house to be occupied for a hos- 
pital. ..." 

This picturesque account very well describes the vari- 
ous episodes of the battle of the Brandywine. For 
it tells us how, while Knyphausen "kept the enemy 

2'2Q 



ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 

amused during the day with cannon" down by Chadd's 
Ford, Cornwallis stole a march and, suddenly forming 
his troops up by the Birmingham Meeting House, fell 
upon Sulhvan, who had been despatched at the last mo- 
ment to oppose him there, defeated him and pushed him 
back; while Knyphausen, "having discovered that the 
engagement was on at the Meeting House," led his troops 
with a rush across the river and drove the Americans 
from their intrenchments. Caught thus between two 
armies, the wonder is that Washington was able to ex- 
tricate himself at all and could effect his retreat with so 
little loss and in such good order. 

In helping to cover this retreat, Lafayette, youthful, 
impetuous, desirous of proving himself worthy of his 
newly granted commission, was wounded in the leg at a 
spot upon the Dilworth Road now marked by a monu- 
ment, appropriately inscribed. 

The old Birmingham Meeting House still stands upon 
the hill above Chadd's Ford — still used by the Quakers 
for their meetings — a sturdy stone structure whose doors 
and window-shutters, now painted neat and white, re- 
main perpetual reminders of the day when they were 
torn from their hinges to serve as litters for the British 
soldiers wounded in the liattle of the Brandywine. 



227 



II 

GERMANTOWN 

A FTER the battle of the Brandywine, Washington 
/% retreated beyond the Schuylkill to Germantown; 
^ .m. but as soon as his soldiers were somewhat re- 
freshed he recrossed the river and again endeavored to 
stay Howe's advance upon Philadelphia. On the Lan- 
caster Road, near the Warren Tavern, the two armies 
again confronted each other, but a sudden September 
deluge wet their powder and prevented the impending 
battle. The storm lasted all night and by morning Howe 
had shpped away toward Swedes' Ford, now Swedeland, 
opposite Conshohocken, a station we shall pass on the 
road to Valley Forge. 

Washington crossed back by way of Parker's Ford, 
higher up the river, but again Howe changed his direc- 
tion, made a feint up the Schuylkill toward Reading, and, 
when Wasliington had well started to save his Reading 
stores, Howe wheeled about, marched rapidly down the 
river, crossed it at the Fatland Ford, about where Port 
Kennedy now is, and pushed on to Philadelphia, which 
he entered on the 26th of September, 1777, having eluded 
Washington entirely. 

Howe stationed his main army in Germantown, send- 
ing out detachments to reduce the forts at Billingsport 

228 



ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 

and Fort Mercer on the Delaware below Philadelphia. 
These two expeditions weakened his effectives to such 
an extent that Washington, who meanwhile had received 
reinforcements from Peekskill, was emboldened to try 
another battle. 

His base, at the time, was at Pennibecker's Mill, up 
the Skippack Creek. From this place he planned to de- 
scend by night and make a surprise attack upon the 
British who remained in Germantown, with their outposts 
extending as far up as Mount Airy. So, at seven in the 
evening of the 3d of October, the American army left 
camp, advancing upon Germantown in three divisions: 
Sullivan and Wayne leading the centre; Armstrong the 
right; and Greene the left. These last divisions took 
outer roads so as to flank the enemy and join the centre 
in Germantown itself. 

At the time of the Revolution Germantown was a 
straggling settlement, ranged along a single street. To 
a certain extent it may so be described to-day, for its 
single main street, three miles or more in length, is only 
crossed by short thoroughfares. This long street follows 
the ridges of several hills up and down, so that no 
great part of its length can be seen at one time. It is 
still bordered by many of its old-time houses — a number 
of them historic and designated by tablets — whose dormer- 
windows, steep roofs, clapboarded fronts, and colonial 
doorways impart to it a decided flavor of other days. 

It was down this main street that the principal action 
occurred in the battle of Germantown. The American 

229 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

advanced brigade first came in contact with the pickets 
up at Mount Airy. These pickets were quickly supported 
by British hght infantry, for the surprise had not been 
complete. Sullivan's troops now came up and the Brit- 
ish retreated, fighting as they went. Even Colonel Mus- 
grave, with the Fortieth, who pushed forward to the 
rescue, was not al)le to stem the tide and was obhged to 
fall back. The British retreat now became general, but 
when the retiring troops passed the great Chew house 
that stood near the street Colonel Musgrave flung him- 
self, with five companies of his regiment, into the big 
stone mansion, barricaded the doors and windows, and 
from this improvised fortress fired upon the pursuing 
American column. The Americans hesitated, halted, and 
endeavored to dislodge Musgrave and his men. But the 
solid masonry of the stone house was like a single rock 
and their bullets bounded off its walls and fell harmless 
upon the ground. Even General Knox's cannon proved 
ineffective, and he, obeying a law of military tactics, 
would not advance and "leave an enemy in a fort in the 
rear." 

An attempt was then made to set fire to the house. A 
brave young officer. Major White, one of General Sulli- 
van's aides, ran in so close with a firebrand that the shots 
from the windows could not attain him. But a regular, 
slipping into the cellar, fired up from one of the grated 
windows and killed him. The stout oaken doors resisted 
aU attack. 

General Wayne's division, which had advanced far 

230 



ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 

beyond the house in its pursuit of the British, now came 
back, and for a full hour the Americans laid siege to 
this annoying obstacle that upset all their preconceived 
plan of battle. For, the centre being thus delayed, the 




The Chew House, Germantowii 

wings had pushed forward. Greene had met with nota- 
ble success and had arrived, as ordered, in the vicinity 
of the Market House that used to stand where the 
Schoolhouse Lane crossed the main street. But, owing 
chiefly to the attack on the Chew house, as well as to the 
slowness of Armstrong's division, he was not supported 
l)y the arrival of the other parts of the American army. 

231 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

The British, who had been thrown into the greatest dis- 
order, now had time to reorganize their Hne. General 
Grey brought up the left wing and for two hours the bat- 
tle raged up and down the street with the issue still in 
doubt. 

The morning fog thickened and added to the con- 
fusion. Friend was mistaken for foe. At this critical 
moment Sullivan's division, feeling itself unsupported 
and hearing exaggerated rumors of reverses elsewhere, 
began to retreat. This retreat soon became general, and 
the "activity of a powerful and almost invisible enemy 
quickened that retreat." 

Thus, what might well have been a victory was turned 
to a defeat — a defeat, however, that was not severe 
enough to discourage the American army nor seriously 
cripple it. 

On the green at Germantown, near the spot where the 
old Market House used to stand, is a simple but digni- 
fied monument "erected by the Commonwealth of 
Pennsylvania," with a plan of the battle on one side, 
and on the other this extract from Washington's report 
to the president of Congress: 

"LIpon the whole it may be said that the day was un- 
fortunate rather than injurious. We sustained no mate- 
rial loss. ... 

"The enemy are nothing the better by the event and 
our troops, who are not in the least disappointed by it, 
have gained what all young troops gain by being in 
actions." 

232 



ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 

The last time I stood before this monument it was the 
centre of a pretty scene. As a local paper expressed it, 
"the descendants of the Colonial. aristocracy of German- 
town sold chickens, garden hats, and flowers for the sake 
of charity," for Vernon Park, as this green is now called, 
had been converted for the occasion into a huge May 
market, and in front of the old Wister mansion, with 
its statue of John Wister before it, "the very shrine of 
old Germantown famihes," booths had been erected, tea 
was being served, and young ladies, looking charming 
in chintzes and silks of colonial fashion, were vending 
flowers and favors for the benefit of a local charity. 
There were animals for the children to ride; there were 
music and a country store and attractions of all kinds 
as long as daylight lasted. 

Toward evening I wandered up Germantown Avenue 
to the old Chew house. The stately and venerable man- 
sion, called CHveden, stands well back from the road on 
a lawn shaded by fine old trees. It was built in 1763 by 
Benjamin Chew, an eminent jurist, recorder of the city 
of Philadelphia, then attorney-general of Pennsylvania, 
and finally, in 1774, chief justice of its supreme court. 
His portrait in Independence Hall, copied from a minia- 
ture, shows a rather sour-faced man, thin, with large 
spectacles astride a stubborn nose of aristocratic pattern, 
aquiline, high-bridged, and full of character. 

The chief justice remained "on the fence" at the be- 
ginning of the Revolution. He favored reform but not 
independence; wherefore, after refusing to indorse the 

233 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

Declaration of Independence, he was put under arrest 
and sent to Fredericksburg, Virginia, which accounts for 
his absence during the battle. 

One of his daughters, Peggy, was a heroine of the 
Mischianza, which I shall describe in my chapter on 
Philadelphia, and her love-affair with Major Andre forms 
a lighter touch in the British officer's story. His death, 
following so soon upon their violent flirtation, did not 
affect her too deeply, for she afterward married that 
stanch patriot and splendid gentleman Colonel John 
Eager Howard, hero of the Cowpens and donor of the 
land whereon the great Washington Monument now 
stands in his native city, Baltimore. 

One has only to look at Cliveden's massive walls to 
realize what a fortress it could l)ecome, and how suc- 
cessfully it could withstand artillery of the cahbre then 
in use. It is built of a very hard stone, granitic and 
thickly sprinkled with glittering particles that shine in 
the sun Kke mica. The stone is gray, the roofs slate- 
colored, and the doors and shutters white, giving the old 
demain an air of tranquil dignity, habited, like a gentle- 
man, in quiet attire. On the lawns about it stand frag- 
ments of the statues that were battered and mutilated 
during the battle. Through one of the grated basement 
windows Major White was shot. Indeed the picture is 
still so complete and so unchanged that one can scarcely 
believe that a century and a half have passed since that 
memorable day in October, 1777. 

Nor is this impression dispelled on entering the house. 

234 



ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 

Mrs. Chew (the home has always remained in the Chew 
family) was at home on the afternoon I called, and gra- 
ciously volunteered to take me about herself. From the 
main doorway I entered at once into a spacious hall, 
almost square and decorated with a triple arcade oppo- 
site the entrance. Through the three arches you per- 
ceive the stairs that lead to the second story. Old fam- 
ily portraits, a "silhouette" or two, several historic 
engravings, and the original furniture give the hall dis- 
tinction. 

A small room opens off at either side. Treasured in 
that to the left, Mrs. Chew drew my attention to the 
very pair of oaken doors that had so successfully re- 
sisted the American attack, battered and scarred, it is 
true, but not broken in by any device that could be 
brought to bear against them. 

Behind these two rooms open two others, much larger 
than they— a dining-room and a drawing-room. In these 
also, woodwork, furniture, pictures are all in perfect ac- 
cord with the general atmosphere of the house and form 
a rarely complete ensemble. My hostess, too, so simple 
and all in black, fitted admirably into the picture, espe- 
cially as she stepped out into the sunlight when I was 
leaving and stood with her hand resting on one of the 
stone lions that guard the stairs — a perfect embodiment 
of quiet distinction. 



235 



Ill 

VALLEY FORGE 

WITH Washington's movements after German- 
town — "the different and continual move- 
ments of the Army from the time of its march 
from Germantown till we hutted at Valley Forge, the 
25th of Dec^" to use his own words — we shall not con- 
cern ourselves here, for they constituted only a series of 
minor engagements of no great importance to the general 
narrative. So we shall follow him directly to his winter 
quarters on those hills beside the Schuylkill, where Isaac 
Potts operated his forge in Ihe valley. 

The army arrived there a few days before Christmas, 
and after their marches and countermarches, with no 
shoes on their feet, the soldiers hoped to find some re- 
pose, but were confronted instead with a new array of 
enemies — hunger and cold, pestilence and discouragement. 
For that year the army was indeed in dire straits; never 
before had it been so destitute. On the 23d of December 
Washington reports "two thousand, eight hundred and 
ninety-eight men were unfit for duty because barefoot 
and naked." 

His officers as well as the Assembly of Pennsylvania 
had tried in vain to persuade him to risk all on the issue 
of one more decisive battle, but he, realizing only too 

236 



ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 

well the condition and limitations of his poor, ragged 
troops, wisely adhered to his own plan and gave orders 
to build the winter huts on the hills of Valley Forge. 

Do you know what Valley Forge looks like to-day? 
Have you ever visited this shrine "whereon our patri- 
otism should delight to pile its highest and most vener- 
ated monument "P 

If so, you know that it is now a State Park, laid out 
with wide, smooth roads and decorated with a profusion 
of monuments, both great and small. When I first vis- 
ited it, some fifteen years ago, it was still an uncultivated 
tract of land, dotted here and there with farms and 
crossed here and there with country roads, while the 
remains of its old intrenchments could still be seen, half 
hidden by a sturdy growth of trees. Now these intrench- 
ments are even better defined and, in places, planted 
with blossoming laurel, while broad asphalt roads lead 
to imposing monuments and statues. 

I wonder which is the right impression. The motor- 
ist, the hurried tourist, the caravans of curious that visit 
it from Philadelphia in huge, sightseeing buses will, of 
course, prefer it as it is to-day. But the pedestrian, the 
poet, the dreamer of dreams, and the lover of "atmos- 
phere" will sigh for the Valley Forge of years ago. 

And truly, given its traditions and pathetic associa- 
tions, it scarcely seems the place for pompous equestrian 
statues, columns, and triumphal arches. Markers to 
designate the placement of the various encampments — 
well and good, and the more of them the better; but to 

237 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

destroy the solemnity of these cheerless hills by bronzes 
and marble monuments seems to me irrelevant and of 
questionable taste. It is only too evident that the mo- 
tives that prompted the erection of these memorials were 
of the best ; the advice of a more enhghtened park com- 
mission might have directed their activities toward a 
better result. 

Valley Forge is but an hour from Philadelphia by the 
railroad. The train follows all the way along the Schuyl- 
kill, which, at first, through the outer industrial districts 
of the city, is harnessed by mills and factories, but later 
flows free and placid between well-wooded hills. 

Beyond East Falls we crossed the Wissahickon, whose 
banks afford the favorite drive from Germantown; and 
beyond Norristown we passed to the west bank of the 
river and soon after drew up at the station of Valley 
Forge — a station whose long colonnades suggested the 
crowds that at times arrive here. 

Luckily, the morning of my last visit I was almost 
the only passenger to alight, so I wandered off quite by 
myself. The railway-station stands very near the house 
known as the Washington Headquarters. In it, prior to 
the Revolution, dwelt Isaac Potts, who operated a forge 
up the creek that here flows into the Schuylkill — the 
Valley Creek, as it was called, whence the name Valley 
Forge. 

During the "hutting" of the troops Washington in- 
sisted upon sharing their hardships by remaining with 
them in liis marquee up on the slope of Mount Joy. 

2SS 



ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 

But when the soldiers were securely under shelter in their 
log huts he took up his headquarters in this stout little 
Potts house, substantially built of field stone, with solid 
doors and window-shutters. He added a log cabin "to 







The Old Potts House at V alley Forge 



dine in, which has made our quarters much more tolera- 
ble than they were at first," as Mrs. Washington, who 
joined him later, writes to a friend. 

And truly it was a small house for the commanding 
general of an army — with but two little rooms on the 
ground floor and two above, with a few steps leading 
down to a kitchen and to the dining-room to which she 
alludes. It is now kept in perfect repair; its old wood- 

239 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

work and panelling have been scraped and freshly painted, 
and it has been appropriately furnished in excellent taste 
by the Norristown Chapter of the Daughters of the 
American Revolution. 

In the field near by the life-guard was quartered, and 
beyond lay General Mcintosh's brigade. The main en- 
campments, however, were much farther away, over on 
the other slope of Mount Joy. 

To visit these various camps you should follow up 
the Valley Creek, a sombre and romantic stream that 
on dark days runs so silently and so stealthily under 
the overhanging branches that it recalls some tragic vale 
in Dante. 

Beyond the site of the forge and the spring, you reach 
a covered bridge, at which you turn to the left up the 
hill and soon come upon General Knox's quarters — a 
farm now owned by Senator Knox. From this point 
begins the long succession of encampments, each divi- 
sion marked by one or more monuments. The first of 
these is a monument to unknown soldiers; then one to 
Baron von Steuben, taking the form of a portrait statue 
erected by the German-American Alliance in 1915. Be- 
yond it a reconstruction of one of the log huts designates 
the site of the camp hospital. On the hill above you 
catch a glimpse of Fort Washington. 

The first troops along this line were those of Scott's 
and Woodford's brigades; then came the Pennsylvanians 
under General Anthony Wayne. A great equestrian 
statue of this general here dominates the landscape, the 

240 



ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 

gallant Pennsylvanian turning in his saddle to gaze far 
out across the broad Chester valley, here revealed for a 
great distance, as if eagerly scanning its undulations in 
quest of an approaching enemy. The intrenchments 
that protected his division are still plainly visible in the 
woods that skirt the road. 

General Poor's command came next and completed 
this first salient of intrenchments, for here the brow of 
the hill deflects and, turning sharply backward, forms a 
second fine nearer to the Schuylkill. The road turns 
with it and passes, on the highest ground, a massive arch 
erected by the United States Government — the Wash- 
ington Memorial Arch, as it is called — inscribed with 
Washington's own tribute to his men written in a letter 
to Governor Chnton: "Naked and starving as they are, 
we can not enough admire the incomparable patience 
and fidehty of the soldiery." And surely every man 
who passed that winter in Valley Forge, with its wretched 
sicknesses and high mortahty, its hunger and its cold, was 
a patriot of whom his descendants may well be proud. 

Beyond the arch a phnth with a widely curving seat 
serves as Massachusetts' tribute to her soldiers who occu- 
pied this position under Glover and Learned. Patter- 
son's, Weedon's, and Muhlenberg's divisions came next, 
stretching from here down to the Schuylkill, where they 
were flanked by a redoubt. 

Instead of following this line, you should now return 
to the arch and take the Old Gulch Road, that leads back 
through the valley toward Washington's Headquarters. 

241 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 



Down in the hollow, you find the Camp School built in 
1705. Though still furnished with its old desks and 
benches ranged along the wall, and with the pegs for the 
children's hats and coats, it is now a diminutive museum, 
presided over by an aged veteran who triumphantly 
points out, gathered about it, various trophies in the 
shape of captured cannon. 

From the Camp School you may ascend Mount Joy 
and see the main redoubt, called Fort Washington, whose 
parapets, now restored and set out with artillery, command 
a splendid panorama of all the surrounding country. 
Hence another hue of intrenclmaents leads down to the 
Star Redoubt, that overlooked the Schuylkill and the 
temporary bridge. We are now again near Washington's 
Headquarters, and have completed our circuit of the 
Revolutionary camp-ground. 




View from Fort Huntington, Looking toward 
Fort Washington 

242 



ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 



There are many more markers and monuments than 
I have noted, but such is the main topography of the 
camp at Valley Forge, whose hills are filled with memories 
of the ardent patriots who passed that dreary winter there, 
sleeping in the rude log huts 
on bunks of straw — when 
they could get it — for even 
straw was a difficult tiling 
to obtain and many died for 
the lack of it. "Unprovided 
with this, or materials to 
raise them from the cold and 
wet earth, sickness and mor- 
taHty have spread through 
their quarters in an aston- 
ishing degree. Notliing can 
equal their sufferings, except 
the patience and fortitude 
with which the faithful part 
of the army endure it." * 

This winter at Valley 
Forge was probably the 

most trying of Washington's hfe. The sufferings of his 
soldiers touched him deeply and he endeavored in every 
way to alleviate their distress. But the winter was a 
bitter and a gloomy one and tried his fortitude to the 
utmost. Isaac Potts relates that one day while wan- 
dering in the woods near his forge he heard a voice. 

* Report of the Committee of Arrangement of Congress. 
243 




Bell Used in Camp at Valley Forge 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

Silently advancing, he saw a horse tied to a tree, and 
near it his venerated guest, kneeling upon the ground, 
his eyes filled with tears, praying. Awed as if he had 
intruded upon some holy scene, Potts quietly withdrew 
and made his way back to his forge. This is the Wash- 
ington that we must remember in our times of trouble 
— not only the successful general and able President but 
the man who knew how to face adversity and grapple 
with it. 

To add to his troubles, the "Conway cabal" came to 
a climax in the middle of that winter. General Conway, 
a schemer, by political intrigue and pressure upon Con- 
gress, had tried to have Washington superseded as 
commander-in-chief by Horatio Gates, whose brilliant 
capture of Rurgoyne and his army (through no particu- 
lar merit of his own) he contrasted with Washington's ill 
success at the Rrandywine and Germantown. Wash- 
ington boldly faced his critics, quietly winning most of 
them over, so that Conway, in dudgeon, resigned his 
commission as inspector-general of the army. To his 
astonishment, this resignation was accepted, and the 
Raron von Steuben, who had just arrived in America, 
was appointed in his place. 

Von Steuben quickly became the man of the hour. 
"Officers and men ahke were placed under the rigid 
training of this veteran martinet . . . ; and the effects 
of his stern discipline and exacting drill were of per- 
manent value." * 

* Colonel Henry B. Carrington, "Battles of the Revolution." 
!244 



ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 

Here is a soldier's estimate of this patriot army, 
written by one of its enemies, Captain Johann Heinrichs 
of the Hessian Yager Corps, among whose letters to his 
brother I find the following, dated Philadelphia, January 
18, 1778: 

"Nor is their standing army to be despised ... as 
they are, per se, a brave nation, which bravery is sur- 
prisingly enhanced by the enthusiasm, engendered by 
falsehood and vagaries, which are drilled into them, so 
that it but requires time and good leadership to make 
them formidable. . . . 

"The enemy is encamped in huts in Wilmington and 
Valley Forge, and Washington and Stirling have wagered 
as to who had the best huts erected. . . . Our army 
x.y.z. strong, lies in Philadelphia, wliich is fortified by 
eleven redoubts and one outpost; we are supphed with 
all that is necessary and superfluous. Assembhes, Con- 
certs, Comedies, Clubs and the hke make us forget there 
is any war, save that it is a capital joke." 

There are the two pictures. The ragged, shivering 
Continentals, their feet wrapped in rags, borrowing from 
each other the blankets in which they were to mount 
guard — cold, hungry, but filled with patriotism, "their 
bravery surprisingly enhanced by the enthusiasm engen- 
dered by falsehood and vagaries," but benefiting by 
"good leadership to make them formidable"; while the 
British army was weakening itself in a life of indolence 
and pleasure in snug Philadelphia, "supplied with all 
that is necessary and superfluous," so that war was a 
"capital joke." 

245 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

But when the icy barriers broke and spring was in the 
air a ray of hope dawned for the patriots — a gleam of 
encouragement shot from across the sea. La Sejisible, 
frigate, toward the first of May, anchored in Fahnouth 
Harbor, Maine, and a French herald stepped ashore to 
announce an armed alliance between his country and 
the United States. 

The news reached Valley Forge soon after, and one May 
morning the ragged Continentals, their uniforms patched 
and mended, were drawn up on parade. The treaty of 
alliance was read from the head of the army ; the chap- 
lains of each regiment advanced to the front of their 
men and led them as "in solemn silence, the army at 
Valley Forge united in thanksgiving to Almighty God 
that he had given them one friend on earth." 

Then, at a signal, thirteen cannon were fired, followed 
by a running fire of musketry up and down the line, 
and the whole army shouted: "Long live the King of 
France!" Again the thirteen cannon, again the rattle 
of musketry; then the cry: "Long live the friendly Eu- 
ropean Powers!" A third and last discharge, and a 
mighty shout: "The American Slates! ' 



246 



PHILADELPHIA 



PHILADELPHIA 

AS a contrast to this picture of Valley Forge it is 

/% now my purpose to follow the British into Phila- 
A^ JL delphia and depict some of the "Assemblies, 
Concerts, Comedies, and Clubs" of which our Yager cap- 
tain speaks^the gayeties of that winter when officers and 
soldiers alike were welcomed and indulgently petted by 
the rich Tories and neutral Quakers of the city. 

But before we do this let us for a moment take a retro- 
spective glance at the city, so as to see it as it then ap- 
peared, and awake some of its memories. 

At the time of the Revolution Philadelphia was just 
beginning to grow into the plan that William Penn had 
laid out for it. He had conceived that it would some 
day centre, as it now does, where its two principal streets, 
Broad and Market, cross each other. But, owing to the 
commercial facilities of the Delaware River, the build- 
ings, in colonial days, had all followed "along the Dela- 
ware for the convenience of being near the warehouses 
and shipping. Front Street, which is parallel with the 
river, is near three miles long, and out of it open up- 
wards of two hundred quays, forming so many vistas 
terminated by vessels of different sizes."* 

Market Street, then called High Street, was consid- 
ered of great breadth and length, and "would be," ac- 

* De Chastellux, "Travels in North America." 
249 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

cording to a resident, "one of the finest streets in the 
world, were it not for the market situated in the middle 
of it; but the upper part is occupied by the houses of 
opulent citizens and will in time become truly noble." 

As I have said, the thickly populated section still 
centred along the Delaware water-front, so that it is 
down in that section of the city that we still find all the 
landmarks of the days of the Revolution. 

One of the most interesting reminders of this period 
stands near the foot of Chestnut Street, between Third 
and Fourth, in a narrow alley that opens between two 
modern buildings, widening behind them into a sort of 
square. Upon this little quadrangle faces Carpenter's 
Hall, quite shut off from all the world nowadays by the 
tall structures that surround it. Its facade of red brick 
diapered with glazed black headers, its pediment, its 
three arched windows above and simple but weU-pro- 
portioned door below, flanked on either side by a shut- 
tered window, all retain their original character intact. 

Yet this modest building, so humble, so retiring, so 
shyly tucked away from the bustle and traffic about it, 
was, so to speak, the birthplace of our nation. For in 
it, just prior to the Revolution, the first assemblage of 
delegates from the American colonies convened to dis- 
cuss their grievances against the mother country. 

To this Congress came such men as the two Adamses 
and Robert Treat Paine from Massachusetts; Eliphalet 
Dyer, Roger Sherman, and Silas Deane from Connecticut; 
John Jay, Isaac Low, and Philip Livingston from New 

250 



PHILADELPHIA 

York; Thomas Mifflin, Edward Biddle, and John Dickin- 
son from Pennsylvania; Henry Middleton, the Rutledges, 
and Christopher Gadsden from South Carohna; while 
Virginia sent her favorite sons — Peyton Randolph, Rich- 
ard Henry Lee, George Washington, Patrick Henry, 
Benjamin Harrison, Edmund Pendleton, and Richard 
Bland. 

On the 5th of September, 1774, these delegates met in 
Carpenter's Hall. The assembly-room, as we see it to- 
day, remains quite as these fathers of our country be- 
held it — a large, bare chamber, buff in color, whose only 
arcliitectural embelhshments are the two Ionic columns 
that form a sort of screen before the alcove opposite the 
entrance door. The walls are hung with the souvenirs 




/ ' 



The Assembly Room, Carpenter's Hall 



!251 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

and photographs that form the precious heritage of the 
Carpenters' Company, that still uses the building as its 
headquarters. Some of the original Windsor chairs stand 
behind a railing and the speaker's desk has been placed 
just where it used to stand when this first Continental 
Congress convened. 

So the picture can become quite vivid if you sit quietly 
in a corner and call it to mind. 

There, at the speaker's table, sat Peyton Randolph of 
Virginia, then in his fiftieth year, with Charles Thomson 
of Pennsylvania, the secretary, beside him — a "meagre 
figure, with hollow eye and white hair that did not fall 
quite so low as his ears." Ranged round the walls in 
their straight Windsor chairs sat the other fifty-three 
delegates — the best men that the colonies had to give, 
"a collection of the greatest men upon this continent in 
point of abihties, virtues, and fortunes," as John Adams 
expressed it. 

The first sitting was occupied with routine and the 
presentation of credentials. At the second sitting came 
a pause. What was to be done ? Who would open that 
grave debate.'^ No one seemed disposed to start so mo- 
mentous a discussion. Then a quiet-looking, serious mem- 
ber arose, dressed in sober black, wearing an unpowdered 
wig, with, perhaps, his spectacles thrown up upon his 
forehead, as Sully afterward painted him — so simple a 
figure, so unostentatious, that the question rose to every 
lip: "WTio is heP" And the word went round, "Patrick 
Henry of Virginia" — he who had electrified the entire 

252 



PHILADELPHIA 

country a few months before with his ringing words: 
"Give me hberty or give me death !" 

Dehberately he began to recite the wrongs inflicted 
upon the colonies; dehberately he declared all govern- 
ment dissolved and that a new one should be formed. 
He discussed the representation of each colony in the Con- 
tinental Congress, allotting to each delegates in propor- 
tion to its population, and he concluded by declaring 
that all boundaries were now effaced: "The distinctions 
between Virginians, Pennsylvanians, New Yorkers and 
New Englanders are no more. I am not a Virginian, but 
an American." 

The discussion was now begun ; various members spoke, 
and John Jay, dissenting from Patrick Henry's conclu- 
sions, exclaimed: "I cannot yet think that we came to 
frame an American constitution, instead of endeavoring 
to correct the faults in an old one. The measure of ar- 
bitrary power is not full, and it must run over before 
we undertake to frame a new constitution." 

On the 7th of September news of serious clashes be- 
tween General Gage and the people of Boston reached 
the Congress, as it opened its session with prayer. The 
Reverend Mr. Duche read the Psalter for that day, a part 
of which happened to be the thirty -fifth Psalm of David, 
and John Adams wrote his wife: " It seemed as if Heaven 
had ordained that Psalm to be read that morning. ' ' These 
are a portion of its strangely prophetic words: 

"Plead my cause, Lord, with them that strive with 
me; and fight thou against them that fight against me. 

253 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

. . . Take hold of shield and buckler, and stand up for 
mine help. Draw out also the spear and stop the way 
against them that persecute me. 

"Who is like unto thee, which deliverest the poor from 
him that is too strong for him; yea, the poor and needy 
from him that spoileth him.^" 

Then the minister, unexpectedly to everybody, launched 
into an extemporaneous prayer "for the Congress, for 
the province of Massachusetts Bay, and especially for 
the town of Boston." "I must confess, I never heard 
a better prayer or one so well pronounced," says Adams. 
Members of all denominations joined in it fervently, but 
Bishop White, who was present, tells us that George 
Washington was the only member to kneel. 

But a short way farther up Chestnut Street stands Inde- 
pendence Hall — the old State House — historically, at least, 
the most interesting and evocative building in the city. 
Little by little, during recent years, it has undergone a 
thorough restoration, so that it now stands quite as the 
old prints depict it in Revolutionary times. I present 
the drawing that I made of it some years ago. The cen- 
tral or main building remains as it is shown, but since 
then the end pavihons have been restored to their sim- 
pler form, the small domes have been removed, and the 
arcades between them and the main building replaced. 
As it now stands the edifice is a splendid example of our 
sturdy colonial architecture, typical of the stanch simplic- 
ity of the men who built it. 

Upon entering you find yourself at once in a spacious 

254 



PHILADELPHIA 

haU, whose fluted columns, panels, and cornices, vigorous 
in detail and simple in design, accord well with the spirit 
of the age in which they were built — honest, devoid of 








lel? 






■7h 



Indepcndence Halt, Chestnut Street Front 









needless ornament, with no unnecessary carving or gild- 
ing. Such was the good taste of the epoch. 

Through an archway opposite you catch a ghmpse of 
the old Liberty Bell, whose voice proclaimed to the wait- 
ing multitude the ratification of the Declaration of In- 
dependence. The arch to the right gives access to the 
supreme-court room, with its bench for the justices still 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

in place and their serene faces, honestly painted, looking 
down from the walls. The arch to the left leads into the 
Declaration Chamber, as it is now called. 

Like the remainder of the building, this is in simple 
but excellent taste, dignified yet free from ostentation. 
Pilasters divide its walls into large equal compartments; 
spacious windows, both front and rear, give upon the 
street and upon the park that lies behind the building. 
A handsome crystal lustre is the room's only luxury. 

The original speaker's chair, with his desk and his ink- 
well, stands upon a dais at the far end of the room. 
Over the desk hangs a facsimile of the immortal docu- 
ment that was signed upon it. During the momentous 
sessions of the summer of 1776 this chair was occupied 
by John Hancock of Boston — then a vigorous young man 
of forty, in appearance as Copley painted him, his fine, 
firm features framed in an uncurled wig and white neck- 
cloth. Beside him, at the secretary's desk, sat Charles 
Thomson, whom we have already met in Carpenter's 
Hall. The other delegates were seated in leather chairs, 
about twenty of which are still ranged around the walls 
marked with the names of the men who occupied them. 

On the 2d of July, 1776, the Continental Congress, 
convened in this room with forty-nine members present, 
voted, without a dissenting voice, "that these united col- 
onies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent 
states; that they are absolved from aU allegiance to the 
British crown, and that all political connection between 
them and the state of Great Britain is, and ought to be, 

256 



PHILADELPHIA 

dissolved." Two days later it ratified the Declaration 
of Independence. 

The precious original document is preserved among the 



^^^ 






A,- ynr^'^'jx.jf^ 



m^ 



j^^C 




Room in Which the Declaration of Independence was Signed 

archives of the State Department in Washington, badly 
faded owing to a mishap in making a copy of it. 

In tliis same State Department hbrary I found the 
original draft of the Declaration in Thomas Jefferson's 
own handwriting, clear and manful as his firm words 
and thoughts. It shows some shght alterations and re- 

257 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 



visions, made when it was submitted to two of the 
other members of the committee, Benjamin Frankhn 
and John Adams, whose interhneations are thus plainly 




'■'I ' ' - ' I 
View of Independence Hall from the Park Side 



marked: =Dr. Franklin's handwriting; * Mr. Adams's 
handwriting. 

In this library also is a letter written by Thomas 
Jefferson that will interest us in this connection. It Hes 
in a case beside his writing-case and is dated "Monticello, 
Sept. 16, '25." In answer to an inquiry he replies: 

258 



PHILADELPHIA 



,^T 



"At the time of writing that instrument (the Declara- 
tion of Independence) I lodged in the house of a Mr. 
Graaf, a new brick house three stories high of which I 
rented the second floor consisting of parlour, bed-room 
ready furnished; in that parlour I wrote habitually and 
in it wrote this paper particularly. . . . The proprietor 
Graaf, was a young man, son of a German and then newly 
married. I think he was a bricklayer and that his house 
was on the south side of Market Street probably between 
Seventh and Eighth." 

The news of the ratifica- 
tion of the Declaration of In- 
dependence was announced 
to the people, as I have said, 
by the ringing of the bell 
in the State House steeple, 
Tliis historic Liberty Bell — 
the bell so portentously in- 
scribed with a line from the 
Scriptures, "Proclaim lib- 
erty throughout all the land, 
unto all the inhabitants 
thereof" — is now placed at 
the back of the hallway in 
the stair-well. Now no 
longer does it swing aloft, 
but, cracked and voiceless 
in its ripe old age, reposes 
comfortably and peacefully 
on sohd ground. 




Stairway in Independence Hall 



259 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

The main stairs lead you up to the banquet-haU, that 
extends across the entire front of the building. In its 
day it saw many notable gatherings, such as a dimier of 
three hundred covers given by leading citizens to cele- 
brate the repeal of the Stamp Act, and another to wel- 
come the delegates to the First Continental Congress. 
In rooms adjoining hang portraits of many of the gentle- 
men who banqueted at its tables, or sat in deliberation 
in the rooms below — patriots, merchants, bankers, ju- 
rists, and the generals whose campaigns we have been 
following: Greene, Gates, Lincoln, and Knox; handsome 
Anthony Wayne, courtly Schuyler, blue-eyed, ruddy 
Daniel Morgan; and the Southerners: bold Marion, the 
Pinckneys of Charleston, and Colonel William Washing- 
ton, whose exploits we shall review later on; while from 
still another group look down the foreign officers — La- 
fayette, Rochambeau, de Grasse, Steuben, Pulaski, and 
Kosciusko — who aided us to success. 

Philadelphia is particularly rich in these historic por- 
traits. Over in the rooms of the Historical Society of 
Pennsylvania hangs another fine collection of them — 
pictures of even higher artistic merit than those in In- 
dependence Hall. In cases there are also many interest- 
ing mementos of Revolutionary days, such as Franklin's 
punch-keg, Robert Morris's strong box, beautifully bound 
in brass (but, oh, how small for a multimilhonaire !), rare 
prints, and books rarer still, and in a corner of the gallery 
cork models of some of the historic houses that have disap- 
peared : the old court-house, squatting on its stout arcades ; 

260 



PHILADELPHIA 



"Loxley's House," that used to stand in South Second 
Street and in which dwelt brave Lydia Darrach, who 
apprised Washington of the intended attack at White- 
marsh; the famous "Slate Roof House," once occupied 
by William Penn ; and General Howe's headquarters that 
used to stand in High Street (now Market) near Sixth. 

Philadelphia still retains one old house that is the ob- 
ject of many a pious pilgrimage — a little two-story affair 
about jBfteen feet wide, 
with but a single dormer 
in its roof — squeezed in 
between a number of 
structures of more recent 
date down on Arch Street, 
near the river. Well-au- 
thenticated tradition has 
it that here Betsy Ross 
made the first American 
flag. 

Up to the first day of 
January, 1776, there had 
been no regular emblem 
for the revolted colonies. 
Upon that New Year's 
Day a flag of thirteen 
stripes — the "rebelhous 
stripes" — but still retain- 
ing the British union in 

its corner, was unfurled The Betsy Ross House 

261 




REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

at the head of the newly organized Continental Army at 
Cambridge; but it was not until June 14, 1777, that Con- 
gress took definite action and resolved "that the flag of 
the thirteen United States be thirteen stripes alternate 
red and white; that the Union be thirteen stars, white 
in a blue field, representing a new constellation." 

Betsy's husband, George Ross, was a lawyer, a signer 
of the Declaration, and a member of tliis Congress, and 
tradition depicts him and his wife receiving George 
Wasliington and Robert Morris in the little back room 
of the "Betsy Ross house," near the old fireplace with 
its blue tiles, to show them the first flag made according 
to the terms of this resolution. 

In an up-stairs room of the Jumel Mansion in New 
York (see page 165) hangs a patched piece of toile de 
Joiiy. or printed calico, stamped with a curious allegory, 
presumably of French fabrication and closely tied to the 
design of this first American flag, perhaps a precursor of 
it. My attention was called to it by the curator, who 
shares this opinion. As is usual in such prints, the de- 
sign is made by two scenes used alternately. One de- 
picts Washington, standing in a chariot beside a figure 
bearing Mercury's wand and showing upon her shield the 
inscription, "American Independence, 1776." The chariot 
is drawn by leopards led by Indian boys blowing trumpets, 
from which depend two flags — one the Serpent Flag of 
Maryland, the other a flag of thirteen stripes. The 
second scene shows Franklin, accompanied by Liberty, 
bearing an inscription, "Where Liberty dwells, there is 

262 



PHILADELPHIA 

my country," and guided toward a Temple of Fame by a 
figure of War, whose shield is painted with thirteen stars, 
the "new constellation." Thus, in the union of the two 
scenes the original Stars and Stripes appear. 

There is another picture closely wedded to Franklin 
and his family that I wish now to present — also a French 
interpretation, written for us by the Marquis de Chastel- 
lux, who was taken about in Philadelphia, toward the 
close of the Revolution, to see its people and its sights. 

"First we began by visiting Mrs. Bache. She merits 
all the airxiety we had to see her, for she is the daughter 
of Mr. Franklin. Simple in her manners, Hke her re- 
spectable father, she possesses liis benevolence. She con- 
ducted us into a room filled with work, lately finished by 
the ladies of Pliiladelphia. This work consisted neither 
of embroidered tambour waistcoats, nor network edgings, 
nor of gold and silver brocade — it was a quantity of shirts 
for the soldiers of Pennsylvania. The ladies bought the 
linen from their private purses, and took a pleasure in 
cutting them out and sewing them themselves. On each 
shirt was the name of the married or unmarried lady who 
made it, and they amounted to twenty two hundred."* 

Does this sound hke a picture of a century or more 
ago or one of yesterday ? 

During the British occupation (and this brings us back 
to the main thread of our narrative) Benjamin Franklin's 
house, that stood in a court off High Street, was occupied 
by Major, then Captain, Andre, whose tragic fate we have 

* "Travels in North America." 
263 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

witnessed at Tappan. He was a brilliant officer, a charm- 
ing gentleman and a dilettante, expressing himself with 
facility and fehcity in all the arts. Frankhn's daughter, 
the Mrs. Bache above referred to, writes to her father in 
Paris after Andre's departm:'e: 

"I found your house and furniture, upon my return 
to town in much better order than I had reason to expect 
from the hands of such a rapacious crew. They stole 
and carried off with them some of your musical instru- 
ments, viz., a Welsh harp, a ball harp, a set of tuned 
bells which were in a box, a viol-da-gamba, all the spare 
armonica glasses and one or two spare cases. Your 
armoiiica* is safe. They took hkewise the few books that 
were left behind, the chief of which were Temple's school- 
books and the History of the Arts and Sciences in French 
which is a great loss to the pubhc. Some of your elec- 
tric apparatus is missing; also a Captain Andre took 
with liim a picture of you which hung in the dining room." 

Artistic robbers, certainly, these pilferers who stole 
harps and violins, rare books and historic portraits — 
thieves of refinement ! 

Not all the inliabitants of Philadelpliia fared as well, 
for the British officers were indeed a "rapacious crew." 
General Howe "seized and kept for his own use, Mary 
Pemberton's coach and horses in which he used to ride 

* These old musical instruments, first introduced by Benjamin Franklin, 
are to be seen in museums, and I have heard them played on several occa- 
sions. Kindly Miss Custis played a set of these "musical glasses" for me 
in her home in Williamsburg, tuning them with water to the right note, 
and then playing them by passing the wet finger round the edges. 

264 



PHILADELPHIA 

about town." * The officers, quartered upon the in- 
habitants, spent their days in gambhng and other equally 
profitable pastimes, aiid their nights at entertainments. 
"By a proportionate tax on the pay and allowances of 
each officer, a house was opened for daily resort and 
weekly balls, with a gaming-table and a room devoted 
to the players of chess." Three times a week plays were 
enacted by the officers, and Major Andre and Captain 
Delancey were the chief scene-painters, the former's 
waterfall curtain remaining in the Southwark Theatre 
until that building was torn down. The younger officers, 
following the example of some of the older ones, played 
for heavy stakes and openly gave way to their vices, 
two of them impudently advertising in a paper for "a 
young woman, to act in capacity of housekeeper. Ex- 
travagant wages will be given and no character required." 

With the spring came news of Sir William Howe's 
recall to England. As "he was much beloved by his 
officers and soldiers for his generosity and affability," 
his departure was viewed as notliing short of a calamity. 
So a great fete was plaiuied as a testimonial of tliis devo- 
tion of the army to its general — a festival the most 
elaborate that America had witnessed up to that time, 
whose extravagance was severely criticised by both 
Wliigs and Tories and did much to ahenate sympathy 
from the British cause. 

Major Andre, who took a prominent part in its or- 
ganization, wrote a long description of it to a friend 

* Watson's "Annals of Philadelphia." 
265 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

in England, and his letter was published in the "London 
Annual Register," in 1778. It is too long to quote in 
extenso, but I shall append some of the salient passages 
of this, his description of the " Mischianza, " or Italian 
medley, as it was called. 

"A grand regatta [on the Delaware] began the enter- 
tainment. It consisted of three divisions. In the first 
was the Ferret galley, with Sir Wilhani and Lord Howe, 
Sir Henry Clinton,* the officers of their suites and some 
ladies. The Cornwallis galley brought up the rear, having 
on board General Knyphausen and his suite, three British 
generals and a party of ladies. On each quarter of these 
galleys, and forming their division, were five flat boats, 
lined with green cloth, and filled with ladies and gentle- 
men. In front of the whole were three flat boats with a 
band of music in each. Six barges rowed about each 
flank, to keep off the swarm of boats that crossed the 
river from side to side. The galleys were dressed out in a 
variety of colors and streamers. In the stream opposite 
the center of the city, the Fanny, armed ship, magnifi- 
cently decorated, was placed at anchor, and at some 
distance ahead lay his majesty's ship Roebuck, with 
the admiral's flag hoisted at the fore- topmast head. The 
transport-ships, extending in a line the whole length of 
the town, appeared with colors flying, and crowded with 
spectators, exhibiting the most picturesque and enliven- 
ing scene the eye could desire." 

This water pageant started at the foot of Vine Street, 
passing southward, "keeping time to the music that led 

* Who had just been appointed to succeed General Howe as commander- 
in-chief. 

266 



PHILADELPHIA 

the fleet," to the foot of Market Street, and there halted 
while the bands played "God Save the King" and cheers 
were given. The guests then landed "a little to the south- 
ward of the town, fronting a building," the old Wharton 
Mansion that stood well back from the river, between 
which and it stretched a stately garden. 

"The company as they disembarked arranged them- 
selves in line of procession and advanced through an 
avenue formed by two files of grenadiers, and a line of 
light horse supporting each file. Tliis avenue led to a 
square lawn, fined with troops and properly prepared 
for the exhibition of a tilt and tournament according to 
the customs and ordinance of ancient chivalry. . . . 
Two paviUons received the ladies while the gentlemen 
arranged themselves in convenient order at each side. 

"On the front seat of each pavilion were placed seven 
of the principal young ladies of the country, dressed in 
Turkish habits and wearing in their turbans the favors 
of the knights who were to contend in their honor." 

The knights then entered in two companies, those of 
the Blended Rose and those of the Burning Mountain. 
Among the former was Andre himself, appearing in 
honor of Miss Peggy Chew, and with him was Lieutenant 
Sloper, who appeared in honor of Miss Margaret Ship- 
pen, who afterward married Benedict Arnold. 

After the tournament, with its splintering of lances 
and encounters with swords, a passage was opened and 
the company proceeded toward the house through two 
triumphal arches, erected in honor of the two brothers, 
the general and the admiral, along an avenue lined with 

267 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

troops, and enlivened with "the colors of all the army 
planted at proper distances." They then entered the 
house, where refreshments were served, the "windows 
were thrown open and a magnificent bouquet of rockets 
began the fireworks," These included wonderful de- 
vices, designed by Captain Montressor, chief engineer. 
The arches were illuminated, and Fame appeared on top 
of one of them and blew from her trumpet the inscrip- 
tion, "Leurs Lauriers sont Immortels." 

"At twelve supper was announced, and large folding 
doors, hitherto artfully concealed, being suddenly thrown 
open, disclosed a magnificent saloon of two hundred and 
ten feet by forty, and twenty two feet in height, with 
three alcoves on each side, which served for sideboards. 
. . . Fifty six large pier-glasses, ornamented with green 
silk artificial flowers and ribbons; a hundred branches 
with three lights in each; eighteen lustres, each with 
twenty four lights, suspended from the ceiling; three 
hundred wax tapers disposed along the supper tables; 
430 covers; 1,200 dishes, twenty four black slaves in 
Oriental dresses, with silver collars and bracelets, arranged 
in two hnes, and bending to the ground as the general 
and admiral approached the saloon; all these, forming to- 
gether the most brilliant assemblage of gay objects, and 
appearing at once as we entered by an easy descent, ex- 
hibited a coup d'oeil beyond description magnificent. . . . 
After supper we returned to the ball-room and continued 
to dance till four o'clock. 

"Such, my friend, is a description, though a faint one, 
of the most splendid entertainment, I believe, ever given 
by an army to their general. ..." 

268 



PHILADELPHIA 

Truly, a fete to be remembered and talked about, es- 
pecially in those simple colonial times! But the "Mis- 
cliianza" was the Belshazzar's feast of the British. Soon 
after it General Howe boarded his brother's flagship, the 
Eagle, and later sailed for England. 

It then became known that the home govermnent 
had resolved upon the evacuation of Philadelphia as a 
military necessity, for reinforcements sufficiently large 
to hold it could not be sent. The Tories of the city were 
dismayed at the news and, not daring to face their irate 
patriot neighbors after their winter revels with the 
British officers, packed up their belongings and prepared 
to flee with the army and go as exiles to New York. 

At three in the morning of the 18th of June, a warm 
summer night, Sir Henry Clinton began to move his 
army across the Delaware, and by ten in the morning 
his entire force of seventeen thousand men was safely 
over on the New Jersey shore. He marched by way of 
Mount Holly and Crosswicks to AUentown, where, fear- 
ing danger in crossing the Raritan River, he decided to 
proceed by way of Momnouth to Sandy Hook and thence 
to New York. 

Washington had been watching him and, despite ad- 
verse criticism among his generals, started in pursuit, 
crossing the Delaware above Trenton and marching via 
Princeton to Englishtown, where he overtook him and 
gave battle at Monmouth, an inconclusive action whose 
episodes we shall not follow here. 



269 



CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 



CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 



CHARLESTON 

INSTEAD of remaining inactive in New York during 
the winter of 1779-80 the new British commander-in- 
chief, Sir Henry CHnton, decided to sail for the 
South, for, says Colonel Tarleton, who accompanied him, 
"the richness of the country, its vicinity to Georgia (a 
loyalist state) and its distance from General Washington, 
pointed out the advantages and facility of its conquest." 
So transportation was provided for eighty-five hundred 
men, and these were convoyed by a proud fleet under 
Admiral Arbuthnot. New York harbor was safely cleared 
on the day after Christmas, and for a while, despite the 
season of the year, favorable weather was encountered. 
But then a series of storms set in, and the ships were 
separated and buffeted at sea during the entire month 
of January. While they are beating about in the At- 
lantic let us hasten ahead of them and look at the city 
for which they were bound. 

Charleston, to my mind, retains more of the atmos- 
phere of Revolutionary days than any other of our larger 
cities. Its old-fashioned main street; its narrow thor- 
oughfares neatly paved with brick; its homesteads, 

273 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

shut behind high walls, many of them still occupied by 
descendants of the old colonial families, give it an air 
of distinction — an aspect quite different from that of the 
busthng cities of the North; while its fragrant Old World 
gardens, overgrown with honeysuckle and jasmine and 
rippling with the notes of the mocking-bird and the 
purple grackle, lend to it a particular charm rare indeed 
in the newer American communities. 

Along the Battery and in the neighboring streets — 
King, Broad, and Tradd — many of the old houses are 
still furnished as they were a century ago. Upon a re- 
cent visit I went to one of them — the Pringle House, per- 
haps the most perfect of them all — to see the present- 
day descendant of the family that has always occupied 
it — an elderly lady of quite another age, fitting perfectly 
into her surroundings, enhancing by her presence the 
dignified old rooms panelled in wood, the handsome 
English furniture and the family portraits that look 
down from the walls, beginning with Miles Bruton, 
builder of the house, and his daughter, the heroic Rebecca 
Motte, and progressing through a succession of jurists 
and statesmen and ladies in panniers to men in the black 
neckcloths and broadcloth coats of our grandfathers. 

In one of the rooms a friend, who was taking me about, 
and who had occupied this particular apartment for 
twenty-one years, led me over to the chinmeypiece and, 
pointing to a slab of black marble fitted in under the 
mantel-shelf, asked what I saw there. At first I could 
detect nothing at all, but on getting in a certain light I 

274 



CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 

could discern, quite plainly, a full-rigged frigate under 
sail, scratched with a diamond, Uke a sgrafEtto, upon the 
polished surface. Again my companion asked: "And 
what more can you see?" Then I made out the profile 
of a British officer in powdered wig and regimentals, and 




r.c, p,.xoV\>. 



The Pringle Hoxtse, Charleston 

my friend explained: "We call him Sir Henry Clinton; 
you know this house was headquarters during the British 
occupation." 

With this rare companion and several others I explored 
the nooks and corners of the old city (and that is a long 
story), and at the Southern Club listened to its history 
told by the men who know it best. 

One afternoon we motored out to St. James Goosecreek 
to see the old church and the Middleton estates near by. 

275 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 



St. James' was built in 1713. It still stands quite alone 
in the pine-woods, in a most romantic spot, with ancient 
slate gravestones set about it and trees, pendent with 
moss, shading its old brick walls. Inside, too, the 
church has never changed. The white pilasters, the 
balcony with the hatchments of the Izards, the wall 
tombs that date back to the building of the church, the 
pews with their high wainscots — all are as they ever have 
been, even to the great carved lion and unicorn that 
still hold the royal arms of England over the high altar. 
The sight of this coat of arms, so surprising to find, 
recalled to my mind one of Garden's anecdotes, an inci- 
dent that happened during the early days of the Revo- 
lution in this very church. The min- 
ister, 

"the Reverend Mr. Ellington, in the 
course of service, praying, 'That it 
may please thee to bless and preserve 
his most gracious Majesty, our Sover- 
eign Lord King George,' a dead silence 
ensued and, instead of the 
.; usual response, 'We beseech 
thee to hear us, good Lord' 
a murmuring voice pro- 
nounced, 'Good Lord, de- 
hver us.'" 

In the very heart of 
Charleston, where Broad 

St. Michael's Church '' Street intcrsccts Meeting, 

276 




CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 

stands St. Michael's, perhaps the most successful and im- 
posing colonial church in our country. Its chimes, that 
have pealed over the city and regulated its life for a cen- 







Statue of William Pitt, Charleston 



tury and a half; its old pews inscribed with the same 
names they have borne for many generations; its organ, 
now played, I am told, by a descendant of its maker — 
John Snetzler fecit, Londini, 1767, as he signs himself 
upon it; the brass chandelier with its forty-odd hghts, 
are all there to attest its antiquity as well as the good 

277 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

taste of its builders, while its spire is still, as it ever has 
been, 

"The guardian beacon of our coast 

The seaman's hope when waves are wild." 

Almost within its shadow, in a green square across the 
way, stands a curious relic of the past — ^a marble statue 
of the elder Pitt draped as a Roman and armless as the 
Venus of Milo. Its pedestal bears this inscription: 

In grateful memory 

of his services to his country in general 

and to America in particular 

The Commons House of Assembly 

of South Carolina 

unanimously voted 

this statue 

of 

The Right Honorable William Pitt, Esqr 

who 

gloriously exerted himself 

in defending the freedom of Americans 

the true sons of England 

by promoting a repeal 

of the Stamp Act 

in the year 1766. 

Time shall sooner destroy this mark of their esteem 

Than erase from their minds their just sense of his patriotic 

virtues. 

This statue originally stood at the intersection of the 
two main streets — Rroad and Meeting. Its right arm 

278 



CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 

was carried off by a cannon-ball during the siege of 1780; 
later it was pulled down and consigned to oblivion (Time 
having destroyed their just sense of his virtues) ; then it 
was resurrected and placed before the Orphanage, and 
finally, in 1881, it was moved back again near its original 
situation. It remains one of the few statues dating from 
colonial times that I know of in our country. 

At the outbreak of the Revolution, the Charlestonians 
quickly sided with the patriot cause. On the day follow- 
ing the skirmish at Lexington, some of the citizens seized 
all the powder in the city. In September, 1775, Colonel 
William Moultrie drove the garrison from Sullivan's 
Island and took possession of the fort at the mouth of 
the harbor. The British governor, Lord William Camp- 
bell, fled from his mansion, still standing down in Meet- 
ing Street, and went on board of one of the King's ships 
that lay in the harbor. 

In March, 1776, intelligence reached the city that a 
British fleet, under Sir Peter Parker, was under way to 
attack it. Colonel Moultrie, in all haste, started to build 
a new fort on Sullivan's Island, and this was but half 
finished when Parker's ships dropped anchor to the north 
of Charleston bar. Divided counsels among the British 
commanders, coupled with adverse weather conditions, 
prevented an attack until somewhat later. 

This gave the patriots an opportunity to work, which 
they embraced with feverish activity. The city's defenses 
were strengthened, while Moultrie energetically pushed 
work on his fort, at that time called Fort Sullivan, but 

£79 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

ever since known, from its gallant defender, as Fort 
Moultrie. It was a square with bastions at each corner, 
made of palmetto logs strongly reinforced with sand. 

Before we watch the battle that ensued, one of the 
most spectacular of the war, let us take a look at the 
topography of Charleston Harbor. To the right of the 




Charleston Harbor 



entrance is a sandy island grown over with thickets and 
clumps of palmettos; this has always been known as 
Sullivan's Island. Beyond it, to the north, lies a larger 
island, then called Long Island but now known as the 
Isle of Palms. On the opposite side of the entrance is a 
large tract of land called James Island. Between it and 
Sullivan's, quite in the entrance itself, lies an islet whereon 
stands Fort Sumter (also fraught with memories, but of 

280 



CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 

another period), which forms the only visible part of a 
long shoal known as the Middle Shoal. Between this 
shoal and Fort Moultrie is the only channel deep enough 
to admit large ships, so that this fortress is really the key 
to the harbor. 

Now let us take the ferry to Mount Pleasant. If we 
do this in the cool of a summer morning we shall find 
children in throngs, with their mothers and nurse- 
maids, going for a day's outing on the beach at the Isle 
of Palms. As we follow the channel round the end of 
Shute's Folly, we enjoy a series of fine retrospects of the 
old city strung along its wharfs, its slender church 
spires— St. Michael's, St. Phillip's, and others— still main- 
taining their ascendency over the temples of Maimnon 
that now overtop and dwarf the steeples of most of our 
American cities. There, too, stands the old Exchange 
or Custom House (where the Provincial Congress met in 
1774, "setting up the first independent government in 
America," as its tablet records), covered with pink stucco, 
its colonnade facing the water-front and overlooking the 
bay, just as Leitch depicts it in his engraving of the city 
made in 1780. 

From Mount Pleasant the Isle of Palms trolley took 
me through the village and along the shore to a long 
viaduct built across the channel that separates Sullivan's 
Island from the mainland at the very point where Gen- 
eral Lee ordered Moultrie to build a bridge by which he 
might retreat in case of a disaster. This order Moultrie 
ignored, for, says he in his "Memoirs": "I never was 

281 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

uneasy on not having a retreat, because I never imagined 
the enemy could force me to that necessity." 

I now found myself upon the island, long, low, and 
sandy, and to-day sparsely built over with summer 
resorts and homes, set in Southern-looking gardens. But 
the principal buildings are still the barracks and quarters 
that cluster round Fort Moultrie. Brick bastions now 
replace those of palmetto logs, but the emplacement is 
the same. New batteries with up-to-date guns have been 
built along the shore beyond, but the sentries still watch 
the sea as Moultrie did on that cloudless June morning 
of '76. 

His observant eye, on the 28th, assured him that the 
expected attack was coming, and he quickly made his 
preparations. Says he in his "Memoirs": 



Cv>1^ 




4.7 



Forf Moultrie 



282 



CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 

" I hurried back to the fort as soon as possible. When 
I got there I found that the ships were already under 
sail. I immediately ordered the long roll to beat and 
officers and men to their posts, when the ships came sail- 
ing up, as if in confidence of victory. We had scarcely 
manned our guns. They were soon abreast of the fort, let 
go their anchors and began their attack most furiously." 

This was near eleven o'clock. First came the Solebay 
of twenty-eight guns, then the big Experiment of fifty; 
next the Bristol, the flag-ship, with the commodore. Sir 
Peter Parker, and the royal governor of South Carohna, 
Lord Wifliam CampbeU, on board; and last the Active 
of twenty-eight guns. FoUowing this first division of 
larger ships, came a second squadron of frigates: the 
Sphinx, Adseon, and Syren, which were ordered to pass 
around the big ships and enfilade the fort. Then a 
mortar-ship, the Thunder Bomb, took up her position off 
the east bastion and prepared to throw her shefls. 

To oppose this formidable array Moultrie disposed of 
but four hundred and thirty-five men, officers included. 
He had made a flag— there being no official emblem of 
the colony— with a field of blue and a crescent in the 
upper dexter corner, and this floated proudly on the flag- 
pole of the fort. Word was passed round: "Mind the 
fifty-gun ships; mind the commodore!" 

When the first terrific broadside from the fleet was 
hurled into the fort, the shots embedded themselves in 
the tough palmetto logs as in a sponge, or struck into the 
shifting sand, inflicting little or no damage. Broadside 
followed broadside, and the Thunder Bomb 

!283 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

"threw her shells in good direction and most of them fell 
within the fort, but we had a morass in the middle that 
swallowed them up instantly and those that fell in the 
sand, in and about the fort were immediately buried, so 
that very few bursted among us." * 

These broadsides were answered by a slow and deliber- 
ate fire from the fort, each shot crashing into the ships' 
timbers with telling effect. In the early afternoon the 
flag-ship Bristol swung about with her stern squarely to 
the fort, and was raked from stern to stem, every man on 
her quarter-deck being put out of action — all except the 
"Commodore who stood alone — a spectacle of intrepidity 
and firmness which has seldom been equaled, never ex- 
ceeded." Forty of her crew were killed, seventy-two 
wounded; her hull was struck seventy times, and her 
rigging cut to pieces. 

Inside the fort equal gallantry was displayed. The 
men, in the torrid June noonday, fought half naked 
through the long hours. A shot carried away the flag- 
pole, and the people in the city, watching through their 
spy-glasses, thought the fort had surrendered. 

"Sergeant Jasper perceiving that the flag had fallen 
without the fort, jumped through one of the embrasures 
and brought it up through heavy fire; fixed it upon a 
sponge staff and planted it upon the ramparts again, "f 

* Moultrie's "Memoirs." 

t In White Point Gardens, at the Battery in Charleston, Jasper's statue 
stands upon a tall pedestal, his flag clutched in one hand, the other point- 
ing across the bay to the scene of his dashing exploit. On the back of the 
pedestal are his words: "Don't let us fight without a flag." 

284 



CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 

Meanwhile the three frigates had tried to make their 
way round and take the fort upon its unfinished flank. 
But luckily all three went aground on the Middle Shoal, 
and night found them stuck fast there. Next morning, 
the people of Charleston strained their eyes to see the 
result. There still lay the three ships, but at high tide 
two got off, the Sphinx losing her bowsprit as she fouled 
the Syren. But the Actaeon stuck fast, and her crew, set- 
ting fire to her, abandoned her where she lay. A party 
of Americans boarded her then, pointed her guns toward 
the retiring fleet, and fired a few farewell shots at Sir 
Peter Parker's ships as they sailed out of the harbor 
discomfited. 

How vivid the scene became to me as I lay upon the 
sand by the bastions of old Fort Moultrie ! There, just 
before me, the four gallant British ships lay, with cables 
sprung, within four hundred yards of the fort. Beyond 
them a long, white fine of foam marked the bar. There, 
off toward Fort Sumter, on the Middle Ground, the three 
frigates went ashore, and there the Adseon stuck fast. 
Off" to the right the city strung its houses, fiUed on that 
occasion with beating hearts and straining eyes. The 
morning vapors parted and a stray shaft of sunlight 
fighted St. Michael's spire, 

" The seaman's hope when waves are wild." 

So, disastrously, ended the first British attempt to 
take Charleston. For three years thereafter the city 
enjoyed comparative peace and quiet, though her sons 

285 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

went north in great numbers to do their share in batthng 
for freedom. Charleston remained the principal patriot 
rendezvous in the South, organizing her resources and 
doing her best to aid and equip the Northern armies with 
arms and clothing. 

Then General Prevost, the British commander in 
Georgia, determined to try an expedition into South 
Carolina. He appeared before Charleston in May, 1779. 
A hasty defense had been organized and the authorities 
temporized long enough to permit the return of General 
Lincoln with the main American army in the South. 
Prevost was forced to retire, so that his invasion was 
httle more than an unsuccessful raid. 

Now, as we have seen, at the beginning of 1780 Sir 
Henry Clinton embarked his expedition at New York 
and set out to subjugate the South, his fleet finally 
gathering in Edisto Inlet, below Charleston, by the 11th 
of February. 

Charleston, meanwhile, had been preparing to receive 
him. The intrenchments across the Neck were strength- 
ened; Fort Moultrie, the works at Haddrell's Point 
(Mount Pleasant), and the batteries along the city front 
were put in order. But the troops to man them were so 
few that at first General Lincoln, the American com- 
mander, thought of evacuating the city and saving his 
army. But, assured of reinforcements, he finally decided 
to defend it as best he might. 

The British landed on John's Island, crossed to James 
Island, and marched up the Ashley River to the west of 

286 



CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 

the town where they prepared to cross to the Neck.* 
About the same time, Admiral Arbuthnot entered the 
harbor with liis fleet, succeeding in sailing them past 
Fort Moultrie with comparatively little loss. His galleys 
now ascended the Ashley, and under the protection of 
their guns the British crossed the river. The few Ameri- 
can vessels in the harbor retired behind the boom that 
stretched across the mouth of the Cooper River and 
there were sunk to prevent the British from ascending 
that stream. 

But the city was now almost surrounded. Across the 
Neck, to the north, extended the British hues. The fleet 
lay out in the harbor within cannon-shot of the town. And 
now Cornwallis arrived with three thousand fresh troops, 
seized Haddrell's Point, and the investment was complete. 

The British batteries opened fire and maintained a 
continuous cannonade from land and sea. Day after 
day this went on. The situation became desperate. 
Clinton demanded a surrender, but would promise no 
conditions. On the 8th of May a truce was asked and 
granted, but Lincoln refused the terms offered. So that 
night, after a forty days' siege, the British batteries 
opened anew with redoubled fury. Two hundred cannon 
poured their shot into the city; flames leaped from burn- 
ing buildings; the third parallel was completed, and there 
seemed no further hope of successful resistance. That 
night, says gallant Moultrie, 

"It appeared as if the stars were tumbling down. 
The fire was incessant almost the whole night; cannon 

* See map, page 280. 

287 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

balls whizzing and shells hissing continually among us; 
ammunition chests and temporary magazines blowing 
up; great guns bursting and wounded men groaning 
along the hues; it was a dreadful night." 

Human nature could endure no more. Lincoln was 
forced to capitulate, and not only give up the city but 
surrender his entire army under very severe terms. 



288 



II 

THROUGH SOUTH CAROLINA 

THE fall of Charleston seemed, for a time, to put 
an end to all resistance in South Carolina. Sir 
Henry Chnton wrote to Lord Germaine: "There 
are few men in South CaroUna who are not either our 
prisoners or in arms with us." Emboldened by this 
seeming situation, he issued a drastic proclamation de- 
claring that any man in the province who did not take 
up arms for the King would be treated as a rebel. Thus, 
all those who had expected to remain passive and neu- 
tral saw themselves suddenly constrained to bear arms 
against the cause they really held at heart, and this they 
could not make up their minds to do. 

Clinton returned to New York, intrusting Lord Corn- 
wallis with the command of the army in the South, with 
orders to overrun both Carolinas, starting at Charleston 
and gradually working northward, leaving all the coun- 
try in his rear in complete, if unwilling, subjection to 
the King. 

Rut partisan bands began to form all over the State, 
gathering under the leadership of men who soon became 
famous. Sumter assembled recruits between the Rroad 
and Catawba Rivers in the north; Pickens and Clarke 
upon the Saluda and Savannah in the south; while 
Marion, "the fearless and faultless," in the swamps of 

289 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

the Pee 'Dee and the Santee, and even at the very gates 
of Charleston itself, collected his matchless horsemen — 
"Marion's Men," as they were called — whose exploits 
form the theme of many a song and story. 

To traverse the Carolinas and see the haunts of these 
men was the object of my next pilgrimage; and as I did 
so I proposed to trail Cornwallis upon his long march 
northward toward Virginia and the Chesapeake. 

So one bright Monday morning I left Charleston, re- 
gretfully, and took train for the "up-country." Though 
the sky was clear, it had rained during the night, and the 
observation platform of the "Carolina Special" proved a 
very agreeable spot, dustless and, as the train is not a 
fast one, affording an excellent opportunity for seeing the 
country. 

As far as Summer ville (as its name implies, a resort 
for Charlestonians) and even beyond, to Branchville, 
where the Atlanta Hne diverges, there is nothing of par- 
ticular interest to see, except, perhaps, some typical 
Southern scenes about the depots: a big, fat manmiy 
rounding up her numerous progeny; a "yaller gal" 
driving a cow hitched to a buggy; a lusty negro leading 
his faithful mule to his work in the fields. 

Beyond Branchville we turned due north and soon 
reached Fort Motte — a place that holds its associations 
of the Revolution. Here, in the latter days of the war, 
dwelt Rebecca Motte (whose name I have already men- 
tioned) in a great country house that the British had 
seized and converted into a fortress. Lee and Marion 

290 



CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 



came along with their men and prepared to attack this 
outpost, but its garrison resisted so bravely that there 
seemed no way to dislodge them. Then, says Garden in 
his "Anecdotes": 



.j:^ o jhrj/ C:A roz ina 



■fCHAU-OTTE .7»J'"' 



-^■w-^ ^ \ \ 



T:iPA«TAr^BUIi6 ji ;V; 





Map oj Campaigns in the CaroJinas, Shoiving Cornwallis's 
March from ('harleston to Virginia 

"Lieutenant-Colonel Lee informed Mrs. Motte that, 
in order to accomplish the immediate surrender of the 
British garrison, occupying her elegant mansion, its de- 
struction was indispensaljle. She instantly replied: 'the 
sacrifice of my property is nothing and I shall view its 
destruction with delight, if it shall in any degree con- 
tribute to the good of my country.'" * 

* "Anecdotes of the American Revolution," by Alexander Garden. 

291 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

So she placed in Marion's hands a bow with some 
arrows that, with hghted ends, were soon winging their 
way to the roof of the house. Its dry shingles promptly 
took fire and, with roaring flames all about them, the 
garrison was soon forced to surrender. 

Just beyond Fort Motte I first perceived the Con- 
garee, which, joining the Wateree down below, forms the 
Santee — all three taking their names from the Cherokee 
tribes that once dwelt along them. All three are inti- 
mately connected with the partisan warfare of the Revo- 
lution, their cane-brakes and evergreen forests — natural 
hiding-places for these roving bands, whence they could 
issue at will and to which they could retire with perfect 
safety — having been the favorite haunts of Sumter, the 
"Game Cock," and Marion, the "Swamp Fox," as the 
Rritish called them. 

What perfect retreats they were — these Carolina 
swamps ! As we proceeded we traversed miles of them, 
sometimes crossing long wooden trestles shut in by dense 
masses of rich fohage — pines, oaks, maples, from which 
hung festoons and garlands of vines and creepers, while 
mighty cypresses towered aloft draped with swaying 
beards and wisps of moss. At other times we passed 
ponds whose mirror-hke surfaces were starred with hun- 
dreds of white lilies. Then again, through the dense 
fohage, I could dimly discern sombre depths, where pools 
of tarnished, brownish water could be faintly seen, stag- 
nant, bristling with "cypress-knees," dank and humid. 

Rrilliant scarlet tanagers and modest gray mocking- 

292 



CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 

birds flitted in obscure shadows, in which, according to 
an old writer, "Fire-flies carry their Lanthorns in their 
Tails and on dark nights enlighten them with their golden 
spangles." 

Such were the haunts of Marion's Men; such were 
their hiding-places. 

"Our band is few, but true and tried, 

Our leader frank and bold; 
The British soldier trembles 

When Marion's name is told. 
Our fortress is the good green wood, 

Our tent the cypress tree; 
We know the forest round us. 

As seamen know the sea. 
We know its walls of thorny vines, 

Its glades of reedy grass; 
Its safe and silent islands 

Within the dark morass. 

"Well knows the fair and friendly moon 

The band that Marion leads — 
The ghtter of their rifles. 

The scampering of their steeds. 
'Tis hfe to guide the fiery barb 

Across the moonhght plain; 
'Tis hfe to feel the night wind 

That hfts his tossing mane. 
A moment in the British camp 

A moment — and away 
Back to the pathless forest, 

Before the peep of day." * 

* William Cullen Bryant, "Song of Marion's Men." 
293 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

Somewhere in the vicinity of one of these dusky swamps 
Garden places this amusing story of Colonel Horry, one 
of Marion's Men, who, with a detachment, was ordered 
to await the approach of a British scouting-party and 
entrap them in an ambuscade. They duly fell into his 
hands, when, at the critical moment, 

*'from a dreadful impediment in his speech by which he 
was afflicted, he could not articulate the word 'fire.' In 
vain he made the attempt — it was fi, fi, fi, f — but he 
could get no further. At length, irritated almost to 
madness, he exclaimed 'Shoot, damn you, — shoot — you 
know very well what I would say — shoot, shoot and be 
damn'd to you !'" 

At Kingsville, if you have a day or two to spare, you 
can make a detour and by taking a branch line go over 
to Camden, the scene of one of the disasters of the war. 

When CornwalKs started northward from Charleston, 
he made his first headquarters at Camden. He had thus 
far encountered no organized resistance. But de Kalb 
had brought troops from the North and these, joining 
reinforcements that were on their way to the rehef of 
Charleston but had turned back upon hearing of its sur- 
render, now constituted quite an army. 

Unfortunately, Congress appointed General Gates, 
"the conqueror of Burgoyne," to the command of this 
army of the South. He joined it at Hillsboro, in North 
Carolina, and despite the July heat marched it directly 
over the pine-barrens, by the shortest route, to Camden, 

294 



CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 



"sure of victory and of the dispersion of the British 
army." The troops arrived sick and worn out, and the 
result was to be foreseen. 

The armies came together in the early morning, mu- 
tually surprised, and at the first shock of battle the 
green American mihtia, with no competent leader, "fled 
like a torrent," as Gates himself declares — and he fled 
with them. Only de Kalb and his Continentals main- 
tained their positions, fighting gallantly until de Kalb 
himself was killed and his troops, opposed by vastly 
superior numbers, were forced to give in. 

Gates himself was the first to arrive at Charlotte, sixty 
miles in the rear. He was presently relieved of liis com- 
mand by the Congress that had just appointed him and 
summoned before a court of inquiry. Thus ended the 
mihtary career of this incompetent schemer, who at one 
time had almost succeeded in having himself placed at 
the head of the 
American army. 

By this disaster at 
Camden the Amer- 
ican army of the 
South was again re- 
duced to a mere 
shadow. The de- 
feated militia had 
returned to their 
homes; the Conti- 
nentals had marched ComwalUs's Headquarters at Camden, S. C. 

295 




REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

north again; so that it looked as if CornwaUis would 
now proceed, as an unopposed conqueror, through both 
the CaroHnas. 

Fortunately, at this critical juncture Congress ap- 
pointed Nathanael Greene, a resolute and efficient com- 
mander, to reorganize the Southern army. This, in spite 
of disheartening obstacles, he proceeded to do, and how 
skilfully he did it we shall see at Guilford Court House. 

Meanwhile we shall resume our journey via Columbia, 
the pretty capital of South Carohna, to Spartanburg, a 
thriving town situated in the cotton belt on the main 
line of the Southern Railway. 

Tliis city affords a very convenient starting-point from 
which to visit two of the most important battle-fields of 
the Carolinas, King's Mountain and the Cowpens. In 
search of information, just after my arrival, I hunted up 
an aged veteran, who was able to give me some advice 
and who suggested that I see Mr. John Cleveland, a de- 
scendant of the Colonel Cleveland who took such a 
prominent part in the battle of King's Mountain. With 
tliis gentleman, who proved most kind and hospitable, I 
passed a pleasant and instructive evening. 

The following morning I boarded an early train going 
north, soon crossed the Pacolet — so often mentioned in 
this "up-country" warfare — passed, for the time being, 
the station called Cowpens, and then traversed a fine 
upland district of rolhng hills, handsomely wooded and 
only partially cultivated. Then, after crossing the Broad 
River, the Blue Ridge Mountains (well named upon this 

296 



CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 

bright, fresh morning) came into view along the north 
horizon, while to the south, every now and then, my eye 
caught a jagged silhouette, vaguely suggesting a couchant 
lion, long and low, that I knew from descriptions must 
be King's Mountain. The main range hes in North Caro- 
lina, but this last spur, the scene of the battle, lies just 
a mile and a half below the boundary — that is, in South 
CaroHna. 

After the battle of Camden, as I have said, the "Pal- 
metto State" appeared to be completely in Cornwalhs's 
power. Nevertheless he was wary and wished to make 
his victory secure. He himself set out for Charlotte to 
subjugate North Carolina, but he despatched Major 
Ferguson with a body of regulars and the KJing's American 
Regiment — Tories under Captain Abraham de Peyster, 
of New York — to recruit the loyalists and break up the 
partisan bands that were making forays in the region, 
and especially to disperse the Mountain Men, as the 
frontiersmen from over the Blue Ridge were called. 

Ferguson was a coarse and cruel officer and allowed 
his troops undue license. They plundered and com- 
mitted outrages wherever they went, and left behind 
them a train of resentment and a spirit of vengeance of 
the fiercest description. He finally, with his ranks 
swelled by loyahsts to more than a thousand men, took 
up his position in all security, as he thought, upon this 
dominating spur of King's Mountain. 

But the train of vengeance he had kindled behind him 
began to bear its fruit. From all directions men col- 

297 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

lected: incensed Virginians under Campbell; Carolinians 
under Cleveland, Shelby, and Sevier — undisciplined troops, 
to be sure, but hardy and brave; regiments without a 
general; men without a commissary to feed them or a 
surgeon to dress their wounds, but all smarting under the 
wrongs inflicted upon themselves or their families by 
Ferguson's Tories and Tarleton's hated cavalry. It was 
a veritable man-hunt that they organized. 
And, as an old local doggerel puts it, 

"On the top of King's Mountain the old rogue they 
found 
And like brave heroes, his camp did surround." 

On his hilltop, a hundred feet above his assailants, 
Ferguson felt secure. But the patriot leaders determined 
to attack him from every side at once. Colonel Campbell 
with the Virginians took up his position to the south; 
then, in the order named, came the commands of Sevier, 
MacDowell, Winston, and Cleveland, extending round the 
niountain to the east, and ending with Colonel Shelby's 
men to the north. Campbell, who seems to have as- 
sumed command, gave the signal at the right moment 
by yelling, at the top of his voice, in true Virginia style: 
"Here they are, boys. Shoot like hell and fight like 
devils. " 

The Indian war-whoop rang out, and the battle was 
on. Up the hill the Americans clambered from all sides, 
the British charging down upon them with fixed bay- 

298 



CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 

onets. But, hiding behind trees and rocks, taking ad- 
vantage of every l)it of cover, these hardy hunter-moun- 
taineers fired with deadly aim. As they continued to 
ascend and the coil grew tighter, Ferguson dashed about, 
blowing his shrill whistle to encourage and incite his 
men. Mounting from rock to rock and tree to tree, the 
Americans pressed on, and all the while the British ranks 
grew thinner. Finally, the patriots pushed their way 
to the very top of the mountain and the British stood 
surrounded. 

Two white flags went up, but Ferguson cut them down 
with his sword, shouting: "I'll never surrender to such 
banditti." He gallantly tried to cut his way out, but, 
recognized by the hunting-shirt he wore over his uni- 
form, he was shot and fell from his horse unconscious. 
Then ensued a terrible scene, for the Americans, infuri- 
ated by recent outrages and by the memory of Tarleton's 
barbarity at Waxhaws, still shot down the British sol- 
diers who held aloft white tokens of surrender, so that 
it was with the greatest difficulty that their officers could 
finally restrain them and prevent a literal "no quarter." 
The battle lasted less than an hour, but not one of the 
enemy escaped. 

In its effect upon the people the battle of King's 
Mountain was as electrifying as Bennington or Trenton. 
It changed the entire aspect of the war in the South. 
It roused and stirred the patriots of both the Carolinas 
and new regiments quickly sprang into being. As Jeffer- 
son expressed it, it "was the joyful annunciation of that 

299 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

turn of the tide of success which terminated the Revolu- 
tionary War with the seal of independence." 

The site of this memorable engagement is marked with 
two monuments — one quite old; the other made of 
blocks of granite laid in tiers and bearing this inscription : 

In memory of 

The Patriotic Americans 

who pai'ticipated 

in the Battle of 

King's Mountain 

This monument is erected 

by their 

Grateful Descendants. 

It was fought on the 7th of October, 1780. News of 
it first reached Cornwallis as he lay at Charlotte, and it 
was the first sting of the hornets. Hitherto he had pro- 
ceeded as a victor ; now his troubles were to begin. Such 
a blow was it, indeed, that he fell back to Winnsboro, in 
South Carolina; while Greene advanced to Charlotte and 
took up his headquarters in the town Cornwallis had just 
deserted. 

From these headquarters he issued an order appoint- 
ing Daniel Morgan to the command of a special corps to 
operate in the Catawba region and along the border be- 
tween the two Carolinas, "to protect the country, spirit 
up the people and annoy the enemy." 

Thus, the beginning of 1781 found Cornwalhs at 
Winnsboro, Greene at Charlotte, and Morgan on the 

300 



CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 

Pacolet, near its junction with the Broad. Cornwalhs 
determined first to strike at Morgan, and then to fall 
upon Greene himself. So he detached Colonel Tarleton, 
with his famous and hated cavalry legion and a portion 
of the Seventy-First Regiment supported by two cannon, 
to hunt out Morgan and crush him. 

Tarleton found him upon the Pacolet and crowded 
him over Thicketty Mountain to a place known as the 
Cowpens, a locahty that took its name from the fact 
that it was once a tract of grazing land, the old grants 
designating it as "Hannah's Cowpens." 

This pursuit took them through the very country that 
I now traversed on my return from King's Mountain to 
Spartanburg. First I crossed the Broad River, then the 
station of Thicketty recalled the position of Thicketty 
Mountain, and soon after I arrived at Cowpens. 

The battle-field lies several miles from the station, and 
except for its topography presents no special objects of 
interest. For no monuments mark it, for reasons that I 
shall explain presently, yet the place is hallowed by 
memories of one of the gallant actions of the war. The 
field of battle is rather open country, sparsely wooded, 
and a little more thickly choked with shrubbery than in 
the days of the Revolution. Then it was clear enough 
to allow the evolutions of cavalry and, in this engagement, 
cavalry was a decisive factor. 

Morgan took up his position with his back to the Broad 
River, which also passed around his left flank, so that in 
case of defeat it was quite impossible to retreat. He 

301 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

thus explains this strange choice of terrain, for he dehber- 
ately placed himself in this position. 

"As to covering my wings, I knew my adversary, and 
was perfectly sure I should have nothing but downright 
fighting. As to retreat, it was the very thing I wished 
to cut off all hope of. I would have thanked Tarleton 
had he surrounded me with his cavalry. . . . When 
men are forced to fight, they will sell their lives dearly; 
and I knew that the dread of Tarleton's cavalry would 
give due weight to the protection of my bayonets and 
keep my troops from breaking." 

This field that he chose was quite level, with but two 
slight elevations, the first low, the second, nearer the 
river, high enough to screen cavalry. Behind this one, 
Morgan placed Colonel William Washington's troopers. 
On the smaller hillock he formed his best troops under 
Colonel John Eager Howard, and in front of them he 
spread two separate skirmish lines of militia. Having 
thus disposed his command at dawn on the 7th of Jan- 
uary, 1781, he told his men to "ease their joints" until 
the enemy came in sight. 

Tarleton left his encampment at three in the morning, 
hoping to surprise Morgan, but upon his arrival after a 
long march he found the little American army prepared 
for him and looking calmly on while he formed his line 
of battle only four hundred yards away. 

After a preliminary skirmish Colonel Tarleton marched 
his infantry steadily forward in serried ranks to smash 
the skirmish fines of militia. These stood their ground 

302 



CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 

well and, when the redcoats had advanced to within 
fifty yards, poured a deadly fire into their ranks, and then 
retreated behind the main line of Continentals stationed 
upon the first low hill. 

The British, with a shout, now quickened their ad- 
vance, which, however, was attended with some con- 
fusion. Tarleton lengthened his line, and Howard, seeing 
this, realized the danger to his right flank. Washing- 
ton's cavalry had already emerged from behind the hill 
and were swinging ahead to engage the British dragoons 
when their commander, as he advanced, could see the 
confusion in the enemy's ranks; so he sent a hasty mes- 
sage back to Morgan: "They are coming like a mob; 
give them a fire and I'll charge them." 

At Morgan's command the Continentals, who had be- 
gun to falter on their hilltop, now stiff'ened their line, 
and, delivering a death-dealing volley into the shouting 
ranks of the on-coming enemy, charged back at them 
with their bayonets. "The effect was immediate and 
conclusive." The British ranks broke; the men fell 
upon their knees and gave in. "Exertions to make them 
advance were useless. . . . Neither threats nor promises 
could avail." * 

Colonel Washington, with his cavalry, was impetuously 
pursuing Tarleton's fleeing legion, when, riding far ahead 
of his men, he suddenly found himself confronted by 
Tarleton himself with two of his officers. A fierce hand- 
to-hand encounter ensued. Washington was aided in par- 

* Tarleton, "Campaigns of 1780 and 1781." 
303 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

rying the rain of blows only by a youth of fourteen, and 
his sword, striking that of one of Tarleton's officers, 
broke off short. He would, in all probability, have lost 
his hfe had not Sergeant-Major Perry come up in the 
nick of time to ward off the next blow. 

Washington had wounded Tarleton in the hand and 
had himself received a pistol-bullet in the knee. This 
sharp and bitter encounter forms the background for 
another of Garden's anecdotes anent the repartee of 
American ladies. 

"The haughty Tarleton, vaunting his feats of gallantry 
to the disparagement of the Officers of the Continental 
Cavalry, said to a lady at Wilmington 'I have a very 
earnest desire to see your far-famed hero. Colonel Wash- 
ington.' 'Your wish, Colonel, might have been fully 
gratified,' she promptly rephed, 'had you ventured to 
look behind you after the battle of the Cowpens.' 

"It was in this battle that Washington had wounded 
Tarleton in the hand, which gave rise to a still more 
pointed retort. Conversing with Mrs. Wiley Jones, 
Colonel Tarleton observed — 'You appear to think very 
highly of Colonel Washington, and yet I have been told 
that he is so ignorant a fellow, that he can hardly write 
his own name.' 'It may be the case,' she readily re- 
plied 'but no man better than yourself. Colonel, can 
testify, that he knows how to make his mark.' " 

After this victory at the Cowpens Morgan sent off six 
hundred prisoners to Virginia — a very heartening success 
for the Americans. Congress awarded him a gold medal 

304 



CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 

and a silver one each to Colonel Howard and Colonel 
Washington. 

The last-named officer's widow (whose home still stands 
facing the Battery in Charleston) presented the scarlet 
banner that his squad- 
ron carried that day 
to the Washington 
Light Infantry. This 
military organization 
of Charleston, named 
in her husband's 
honor, still has this 
prized flag in its pos- 
session, and conse- 
quently has taken a 
particular interest in 
the battle of the 
Cowpens. In 1856 it 
journeyed all the way 
from Charleston to the 
battle-field, in those 
days a hundred miles 
from any railway. 




Monument to Daniel Morgan, Spartanburg 



With appropriate exercises a shaft was erected, topped 
by a gilded eagle — the first monument, I beheve, to mark 
any Southern Revolutionary battle-ground. But van- 
dals and relic-hunters (a curse upon them !) carried away 
the memorial, bit by bit, so that nothing now remains 
of it. When a new monument was projected it was thus 

305 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

deemed wiser to erect it in the town of Spartanburg it- 
self, near by. 

There it now stands in the principal square, a sturdy 
shaft, simply inscribed and surmounted by a fine bronze 
figure, modelled by J. Q. A. Ward, of Daniel Morgan, 
who is supposed to be looking off" toward the battle-field. 
In a letter to the committee the sculptor thus describes 
the peculiar costume that he has portrayed: 

"The coat or tunic was a fringed hunting-shirt adopted 
from the Indian costume and much worn by the fron- 
tiersmen of that time. The fringed leggins and mocas- 
sins belonged to the same costume which was used by 
Morgan's Riflemen. 

"The cap, a peculiar one of fur, with a cluster of pine 
leaves as a sort of pompon, was loaned me by a gentleman 
of Charleston through the kindness of the Hon. Wni. A. 
Courtenay (then Mayor). This was an original cap 
preserved from the Revolutionary War. ... Of course 
the manner of wearing the hair, the cravat and rullled 
shirt-front are all in the mode of the time." 

The morning after my visit to the scene of these two 
victories at the Cowpens and King's Mountain I left 
Spartanburg to proceed northward, for I was now to 
follow the two main armies, Cornwallis's and Greene's, 
that were manoeuvring to confront each other. 



306 



Ill 

GUILFORD COURT HOUSE 

IT was not until two months later, however, on the 
15th of March, 1781, that these hostile armies 
finally stood face to face. Greene had played for 
time, meanwhile, and had received important reinforce- 
ments of militia, until he now felt strong enough to con- 
front Cornwalhs's veterans. So, choosing a locality 
north of Sahsbury, he drew up his battle-hnes round 
Guilford Court House, a settlement situated at a cross- 
roads near the present town of Greensboro, in North 
Carolina. 

The main Mne of the Southern Railway approximately 
follows the line the Americans took on their march 
northward after the battle of the Cowpens. How many 
travellers, riding luxuriously nowadays over this hue on 
their way north from Asheville and other resorts of the 
Blue Ridge country, or from Miami and Palm Beach in 
the winter, realize that they are following the weary 
footsteps of the patriots who marched and counter- 
marched over this same territory to fight the bitter 
Carolina battles P 

From Spartanburg I now trailed them, stopping en 
route at Charlotte, for, though now a busy, modern- 

307 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

looking town set in a pretty pastoral country, Charlotte 
has its place in Revolutionary annals. 

To it, you remember. Gates retreated after the defeat 
at Camden, and in it Cornwallis made liis headquarters 
for a considerable time prior to King's Mountain; but 
he found its patriotic inliabitants so inimical, so irritating, 
that he dubbed the place the "Hornet's Nest" when he 
left it for Winnsboro. That the people liked the name, 
and that they remember it still, is evidenced by the fact 
that the local baseball-team calls itself the Hornets. 

On the occasion of my last visit the town was all 
agog with excitement. The President of the United 
States was to arrive within a few days to deliver an ad- 
dress, then particularly pertinent, upon the one hundred 
and forty-first anniversary of the signing of the Meck- 
lenburg* Declaration of Independence, which document, 
prepared by a convention of patriots known as the Meck- 
lenburg Committee, declared themselves and the "Ameri- 
can Colonies" free and independent of Great Rritain on 
the 31st of May, 1775, or more than a year before the 
Jeffersonian Declaration. In front of the court-house 
a monument conmiemorates this fact, now well authen- 
ticated. 

Beyond Charlotte I soon reached Sahsbury, and then 
crossed the Yadkin near the spot where Greene crossed 
it while its waters were rising, Cornwalhs following as 
soon as the flood had sufficiently subsided. 

Greensboro hes just a little farther north — a thriving 

*The county in which Charlotte is situated. 
308 



CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 

town in the centre of a tobacco and cotton growing dis- 
trict. There, in the busy main street, I quickly found a 
motor to take me out to the Guilford battle-field, a few 
miles distant, the scene of a struggle that did so much 
to determine the final issue of the Revolution. 

My first impression of this historic spot was one of 
extreme annoyance. A group of patriotic citizens, ani- 
mated by the very best intentions, acquired the battle- 
ground some years ago. They have since decorated it 
lavishly with granite tents, boulders, pyramids and tri- 
umphal arches until it now resembles a suburban cem- 
etery. The patriotism that inspired the great eff'ort 
involved is not questioned; the good taste is. Bronze 
figures of Clio and statues of former presidents of the 
Battle Ground Company — no matter how public-spirited 
these citizens may have been — seem sadly out of place 
upon this historic field. I wish to except from this gen- 
eral criticism the great equestrian statue of Nathanael 
Greene that has recently been unveiled. Had it stood 
alone, dominating the landscape, the impression would 
have been noble and efTective. Upon the other hand, 
the markers designating the positions of troops are 
most useful to the visitor, being, to my mind, the best 
means of marking the Revolutionary battle-fields. 

To follow the various phases of the battle of Guilford 
Court House, you should first take your place beside the 
sign-board that marks the position of Singleton's artillery. 
His guns occupied a piece of rising ground, pointing their 
noses down the highroad that leads from Salisbury. On 

309 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

either side of his two cannon stretched the first skirniish- 
hne of North Carohna niihtia, with "Light Horse Harry" 
Lee's cavalry on one flank and Colonel William Wash- 
ington's upon the other. The militia were protected by 
a ditch and fence that ran along where a row of maples 
now stands. 

Up the road before you came Tarleton's cavalry in 
column, leading the van of the British army. When in 
sight of the Americans they halted, and the steady ranks 
of the regulars began to deploy and take position at each 
side of them until their lines were as long as those of the 
Americans. Then, says Tarleton, "a sharp conflict en- 
sued between the advanced parties of the two armies. 
In the onset, the fire of the Americans was heavy and 
the charge of their cavalry was spirited." 

But the weight of the British soon forced back this 
first skirmish -line and disclosed a second line, the Vir- 
ginians, also at each side of the road, three hundred 
yards behind, stationed where the railroad-track crosses 
the Salisbury road near the two great stone arches. 
These troops stood their ground well, for Morgan, know- 
ing the temper of these raw recruits, had suggested to 
Greene to "put the militia in the centre with some picked 
troops in their rear, with orders to shoot down the first 
man that runs." After a splendid resistance this line 
also gave way and sought cover in the surrounding woods. 

And now the British guards and grenadiers advanced 
across a gully against the American main line — the Con- 
tinentals, posted on rising ground to the left of the road, 

310 



CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 

where a shaft of pinkish stone marks their position. 
Behind them ran the road to Reedy Fork, and at its 
junction with the main road we have been following stood 
the court-house that gave its name to the battle, its em- 
placement still plainly visible and marked with a tablet. 




The Battle-field at Guilford Court House 



Two fierce charges by the regulars were gallantly re- 
pulsed by the Continentals, who even forced the red- 
coats back again across the ravine. "At this period," 
says Tarleton, "the event of the action was doubtful 
and victory alternately presided over either army." 
But the British were able to bring up additional forces 
into this main action and could be no longer resisted. 
Greene, perceiving this, ordered a retreat, and his troops 

311 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

retired, keeping their lines intact. "Earl Cornwallis," 
says Tarleton, "did not think it advisable for the British 
cavalry to charge the enemy, who were retreating in 
good order." 

The British had fought with extraordinary dash and 
bravery, but had met such determined resistance that a 
full tliird of their number were killed or wounded during 
the two hours of this desperate encounter. Cornwallis 
held the field, but, as with Burgoyne after the first battle 
of Saratoga, "the British had the name, the Americans 
the good consequences of victory." Fox declared in the 
House of Commons: "Another such victory would ruin 
the British army." 

Greene fell back twelve miles and expected Cornwallis 
to pursue him. But Cornwallis, reahzing liis precarious 
position, with his weakened army far from the sea and 
reinforcements, having cared for his wounded as best he 
might, crossed Deep River. Greene followed him, still 
expecting another battle. But Cornwalhs suddenly 
turned about again, recrossed the river, and with all 
despatch set out by the main road via Fayetteville to 
Wilmington, where, near Cape Fear, the British ships 
lay. 

Seeing liis enemy thus turning from him, Greene turned 
about also and started south upon liis campaign that was 
to win back the Carolinas to the patriot cause, thus ful- 
fiUing the hues of an old ditty that used to be popular at 
the end of the war and was sung to the tune of "Yankee 
Doodle": 

312 



CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 

"Cornwallis led a country dance; 

The like was never seen, sir; 
Much retrograde and much advance 

And all with General Greene, sir. 
They rambled up and rambled down. 

Joined hands, and off they ran, sir; 
Our General Greene to old Charlestown, 

And the Earl to Wilmington, sir." 

But the earl did not even venture to remain long in 
Wilmington, for, as he wrote to Sir Henry Clinton in 
New York: 

"I could not remain at Wilmington lest General Greene 
should succeed against Lord Rawdon (in South Caro- 
lina) and by returning to North Carolina, have it in his 
power to cut off every means of saving my small corps, 
except that disgraceful one of an embarkation, with the 
loss of cavalry and every horse in the army." 

And in a later despatch he adds: 

"I can not help expressing my wishes that the Chesa- 
peake may become the seat of war, even (if necessary) 
at the expense of abandoning New York. Until Vir- 
ginia is in a measure subdued, our hold on the Carolinas 
must be difficult." 

So for Virginia he set forth, and thither we shall now 
follow him and witness the last dramatic act of the war. 



313 



THROUGH VIRGINIA 



THROUGH VIRGINIA 
I 

WILLIAMSBURG 

WHEN Cornwallis entered Virginia he took 
the main road direct to Petersburg, crossed 
the James River at Westover, and proceeded 
to Richmond. Meanwhile, apprised of his coming. 
Washington despatched Lafayette with about twelve 
hundred men to oppose him as best he could. Corn- 
wallis received reinforcements, and Lafayette, before this 
strengthened enemy, was obliged to retire to northern 
Virginia. But here he was joined by some troops from 
Permsylvania and thus was able to take the field again. 

Cornwalhs then turned south, staying at Elk Hill for 
a time, while Tarleton made an unsuccessful raid to 
the west in an attempt to capture Jefferson and the 
Virginia Assembly, then in session at Charlottesville. 
Upon Tarleton's return Cornwallis set out for Williams- 
burg, at which place he arrived about the middle of 
June, 1781. 

During all this time Lafayette had been hanging upon 
his flanks, harassing his every movement; and this young 
man of twenty-three had proved himself so swift and ac- 
tive, yet so prudent and wary, that not once could Corn- 
walhs catch him off his guard or take him at a disad- 

317 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

vantage. His army, too, increased all the time, for his 
"youth and generosity, courage and prudence were his 
spells of persuasion," and the young Virginia gentry 
flocked to liis banner. 

So Lafayette's dream of battling for the freedom of 
mankind was now really coming true — -a dream that had 
obsessed him from his boyhood and become tangible when, 
at a banquet at Metz, he first heard of the shots fired at 
Lexington and Concord. Thenceforward, heart and soul, 
he was won to the American cause, and was anxious to 
stake his hfe, his fortune, and his future happiness upon 
its issue. In return he received the love and admiration 
of the American people. " It is no trifling compliment to 
say, that, next to the Commander-in-Chief, and the in- 
trepid Greene, no general stood higher in public favor, 
or more constantly commanded the admiration of the 
army than La Fayette."* 

After a brief stay in Williamsburg Cornwalhs again 
crossed the James River and proceeded to Portsmouth, 
while Lafayette took up his quarters in the old Virginia 
capital. 

For, until two years previous, Williamsburg had been 
the capital of the province. In 1779, however, the seat 
of government had been transferred to Richmond, and 
this was a serious blow to the proud little town — a gen- 
tlemanly community that would not barter and trade — 
and a blow from which it has never wholly recovered, 
for Williamsburg has ever since remained a somnolent 

* Garden's "Anecdotes." 
I 318 



THROUGH VIRGINIA 

place, without commerce, without prosperity, but retain- 
ing for these very reasons the glamour of respectability 
and ancient Uneage, its old houses being haunted with 




^C.f. 



■"■''^<i\Z\ :' 



The Home of the President of William and Mary College, Williamsburg 

memories of some of the nation's most distinguished 
personages. 

A single street traverses it from end to end — a broad, 
level thoroughfare, still unpaved and dusty, and just a 
mile in length — Duke of Gloucester Street, as it is called, 
named for the heir apparent when Wilham and Mary sat 
upon the throne of England. 

Wilham and Mary College, named, when it was built, 
for the sovereigns, the second oldest institution of learn- 

319 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

ing in our country, stands at one end of this street, while 
at the other used to stand the State Capitol, until it was 
destroyed by fire many years ago. The venerable col- 
lege still holds its sessions, and prepares its graduates 
for life's struggles, as it has done for two hundred and 
twenty odd years. Among its presidents and chancellors 
have been such men as Washington and Madison; among 
its students it has enrolled three Presidents of the United 
States, as well as a great number of eminent jurists, pa- 
triots, and statesmen. 

Its old brick buildings recall some ancient English seat 
of learning, which effect is heightened by the noble trees 
that arch their branches overhead to shade the quadrangle, 
whose focal point is a marble monument, erected just 
prior to the Revolution, to the memory of 

The 

Right Honourable 

Norbonne Berkeley 

Baron de Botetourt 

His Majesty's 

Late Lieutenant and 

Governor General of the 

Colony and Dominion 

of Virginia 

as the inscription upon it records, adding: "America! 
Behold your friend!" The sight of this figure, richly 
robed and heavily cloaked, brought to my mind a rare 
old print called "The Alternative of Wilhamsburg" — a 

3^20 



THROUGH VIRGINIA 

crude engraving depicting a group of men writing the 
"Resolves of Congress" upon a barrel-head, while this 
very statue looks down upon them. 

At about the middle of Duke of Gloucester Street 
opens the Court Green, an extensive common named for 




Bruton Church and the George Wythe House 

the old colonial court-house that still stands upon it. 
Near by rises Rruton Church, one of the most ancient in 
our land, pervaded with an atmosphere of rare distinction, 
for the tombs in its churchyard are graven with illus- 
trious names, wliile its pews bear the name-plates of the 
great sons of Virginia, many of whom have been among 
its vestrymen — Custises, Randolphs, Tylers, Wallers, and 
Blairs. The governor's seat is still in place, and of a 

321 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

Sunday, I ain told, the students of William and Mary 
occupy the gallery. 

Adjoining it stands the old George Wythe house, 
which Washington made his headquarters while in 
Williamsburg, now toned by wind and weather to a faded 
pinkish brown. It is the present home of a genial gentle- 
man, who, when we visited the old Virginia capital some 
years since, was living upon the James River, a few miles 
away, in historic Carter's Grove, one of those handsome 
country houses — the pride of the State — whose lawns and 
terraces overlook the river. 

At that time I visited "The Grove," and made the 
accompanying drawing of its hall and staircase, whose 
rail still bears the scars said to have been made by the 
sabres of Tarleton's cavalrymen. Most of the houses 
in Williamsburg have their stories. During that earlier 
stay we visited almost all of them, each haunted with 
memories, and some with well-authenticated ghosts. 
Each held its prized possessions: a sketch of Washing- 
ton, made at a dinner-party by Latrobe's facile pencil; 
a portrait of Mary Gary, Washington's reputed first 
love; a set of liistoric cliina or a rare musical instru- 
ment. 

In one I saw this letter framed upon the wall: "Gen- 
eral Washington presents his compliments to Colonel 
Tucker and requests the favor of his company at dinner 
tomorrow, 3 p.m." Above this invitation hung a por- 
trait, Gilbert Stuart's masterly presentment of John 
Randolph of Roanoke, an ancestor of the family, then a 

322 



THROUGH VIRGINIA 

young man of thirty. In another, scratched upon a 
window-pane, these cabaKstic words were pointed out 
to me: "1796, Nov. 23, Ali, fatal day!" What stories 
lurk behind these fragments of forgotten history — vague, 
intangible, yet so teeming with suggestion ! 




Hall in Carter s Grove 



Other houses have a more definite history. Near the 
site of the old Capitol stands the home of Peyton Ran- 
dolph, the man whom we have seen presiding over that 
momentous assembly, the first Continental Congress, and 
whose head, when he was speaker of the House of Bur- 
gesses of Virginia, was framed in that strange high-backed 
chair that I saw in the State Capitol at Richmond. Bas- 
sett Hall was long the residence of the Tylers; while in 
a house nearer the inn lived William Wirt, first chan- 

323 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

cellor of Virginia. Such are the memories that cling 
about the old town. 

At the outbreak of the Revolution Williamsburg be- 
came a perfect hotbed of rebellion. Its royal governor, 
Lord Dunmore, having seized the powder stored in the 
Powder Horn — a queer, octagonal structure that still 
faces the court-house — Patrick Henry, with the patriots 
at his back, demanded its surrender; the community 
flew to arms and Dunmore escaped to his ships. Early 
in 1776 the Virginia Convention met in Williamsburg and 
instructed its delegates in Congress to vote for inde- 
pendence, and on the 29th of June the State formally de- 
clared itself free and independent, and elected Patrick 
Henry its first governor. 

Williamsburg was then the headquarters of the Virginia 
militia, and in the orderly book of its conunander. Gen- 
eral Lewis, I came upon these quaint instructions regard- 
ing tenue and dress of officers and men — regulations that 
governed the Virginia riflemen, whose exploits we have 
witnessed on many a field — the men whom the British 
dubbed derisively "shirtmen," because of the hunting- 
shirts described. 

"It is recommended to the Colonels to make their 
men appear as uniform as possible in their Dress, that 
their Hatts shall be cut, all cocked in Fassion, that their 
Hair be likewise cut exactly the same length. When the 
Regiment are under Arms, the Officers to appear in their 
Hunting shirts; the Officers as well as men to die their 
shirts in an uniform manner. These attentials may ap- 

324 



THROUGH VIRGINIA 

pear Trivial, but they are in fact of considerable impor- 
tance, as they tend to give what is call'd Esprit de Corps, 
without which Regiments never grow to Reputation. 

"R.O. The Captains of the 6th Battalion, together 
with the other Officers, are immediately to provide them- 
selves with hunting shirts, short and fringed; the men's 
shirts to be short and plain, the Sergeants' shirts to have 
small white cuffs and plain; the Drummers' shirts to be 
with dark cuffs. Both Officers and Soldiers to have Hatts 
cut around and Bound with black; the Brims of their 
Hatts to be 2 inches deep and Cocked on one side with 
a Button & Loop & Cockades, which is to be worn on 
the left." 

Many of these were the Culpepper Men, who bore 
upon their banner a rattlesnake, with the device: "Don't 
tread on me," and ugly antagonists they were for any 
foe, these Virginia riflemen. 

Such was the town, such were the people and the sol- 
diery to whom Lafayette came in the month of June, 
178L And from Wilhamsburg he continued to watch 
his enemy. 

Cornwallis remained at Portsmouth, where he was 
always assured of a retreat through the Carohnas, until 
he received orders from Sir Henry Chnton to proceed at 
once across Hampton Roads to Yorktown and co-operate 
with the British fleet when it should arrive from New 
\ ork. So, on the 1st of August, against his own good 
judgment, CornwaUis began to transport his army up 
the York River to Yorktown, where his entire forces 
were concentrated by the 22d. 

325 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

Lafayette's spirits now rose and he began to foresee 
the happy issue that terminated this Virginia cam- 
paign, for he thus wrote to Washington: 

"In the present state of affairs, my dear general, I 
hope you will come yourself to Virginia. Lord Corn- 
wallis nmst be attacked with pretty great apparatus; 
but. when the French fleet takes possession of the [Chesa- 
peake] Bay and rivers, and we form a land force superior 
to his, his army must sooner or later be forced to sur- 
render. I heartily thank you for having ordered me to 
Virginia; it is to your goodness that I am indebted for 
the most beautiful prospect which I may ever behold." 

On the 30th of August his spirits rose higher still, for 
a great French fleet, under the Comte de Grasse, arrived 
in Hampton Roads. Five days later more than three 
thousand troops landed from this fleet and joined the 
Americans at Williamsburg. 

Now came Washington's opportunity. He had been 
feigning an attack on New York, taking the greatest 
pains to deceive and bewilder his enemy so as to cover 
his real purpose, which was to hasten to Virginia at the 
proper moment with his best troops and aid Lafayette 
in the capture of Cornwallis at Yorktown. And so suc- 
cessfully did he mislead Sir Henry Clinton that, even 
when he crossed the Hudson, with two thousand Amer- 
icans and four thousand French soldiers supplied by De 
Barras's fleet at Newport, the British commander still 
thought his real objective was New York. 

Then, suddenly and expeditiously, when it was already 



THROUGH VIRGINIA 

too late for Clinton to act, this combined army set out 
via Trenton and Philadelphia on their way to the South. 
The American troops marched through the capital on 
the 2d of September and were given a tremendous ova- 
tion, and on the following day the French soldiers passed 
through, the combined forces then proceeding rapidly to 
the Head of Elk, where they embarked for Virginia under 
convoy of the French fleet. 

Meanwhile, with his ofiBcers, Washington had ridden 
down by way of Mount Vernon, his first visit to his home 
in six years. There, on the 10th of September, he enter- 
tained the French commanders, de Rochambeau and de 
Chastellux, and on the 14th he reached Wilhamsburg, in 
time to congratulate his dear Lafayette on his twenty- 
fourth birthday. 

All was now excitement and bustle in the allied camp. 
The northern army was arriving and the French officers 
were A^ing with each other in politenesses and harmony 
of action. What a brilhant scene there must have been 
around the old George Wythe house, where Washington 
was quartered ! How the Palace Green before it and the 
Court Green beyond must have glittered with the bril- 
liant uniforms of the French King's soldiers ! How the 
music must have echoed up and down Duke of Gloucester 
Street as the allied forces assembled, arriving, regiment 
by regiment, from their landing-place on the James 
River ! Ry the 25th of September twelve thousand men 
were quartered in and about the town. 

Washington, Rochambeau, and the general officers now 

327 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

visited the French admiral on board his flagship, the 
Ville de Paris, and perfected their plans for the siege. 
On the 28th the entire allied army marched out of Wil- 
hamsbiirg and went to take up its position close about 
the fortifications that the British had thrown up around 
Yorktown. 



328 



s 



II 

YORKTOWN 

to Yorktown let us now proceed by way of the 
country that Josiah Quincy so enthusiastically 
described when he visited it in 1773: 



"Excellent farms and large cleared tracts of land, well 
fenced and tilled, are all around me. Peach trees seem to 
be of spontaneous growth in these Provinces . . . and, 
intermingled with many small pine trees of exquisite 
verdure, form a prospect to the eye most delightful and 
charming." 

To me it seemed equally pleasing, as we motored one 
May morning not long ago, with the white hawthorn 
blooming by the wayside, the birds singing in the pine 
woods, and the negro cabins ahve with pickaninnies play- 
ing in the doorways, over clay roads and sand roads until 
we crossed the backbone of the narrow peninsula and 
caught a glimpse of the York River, stretching broad and 
blue to Gloucester Point directly opposite. 

At the time of the Revolution Yorktown was, as it is 
now, a village built upon a bluff, occupying the highest 
ground below Richmond on either the York or James 
Rivers. For this reason it had strategic value and Corn- 
wallis had been improving its natural advantages by in- 
trenching his position as skilfully as possible. On his 

329 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 



right lay a creek and swamp, while his front was pro- 
tected by a long ravine so that his main intrenchments 
faced the southeast, where he had also placed his prin- 
cipal redoubts. 



^^^^^0S&S^^ 



■■''^i^^:i. 





^4^44^^ .J^^L^ 



,j^- 













^--y^ 

'''>" 






British Intrenchment af Yorktown, and 
Map SJwicing the Position of the 
French and American Troops 



The allied troops formed a 
great semicircle around him, 
with each extremity of their 
line resting on the river. 
Roughly speaking, the French 
troops held the left half of 
the line, and the Americans the right, the massed artil- 
lery being placed at the point of junction just in front 
of Washington's headquarters. 

It did not take long for Cornwallis to discover that, 

330 



c 
THROUGH VIRGINIA 

despite his strong intrenchments, he was in a very 
critical position. On the 11th of October he sent the 
following despatch to Sir Henry Clinton: 

" I have only to report that nothing but a direct move 
to York River, which includes a successful naval action, 
can save me. The enemy made their first parallel on the 
night of the sixth, at a distance of six hundred yards, 
and have perfected it and constructed places of arms 
and batteries with great regularity and caution. On the 
evening of the ninth, their batteries opened and have 
since continued firing without intermission, with about 
forty cannon, mostly heavy, and sixteen mortars, from 
eight to sixteen inches. We have lost seventy men, and 
many of our works are considerably damaged; and in 
such works, in disadvantageous ground, against so power- 
ful an attack, one can not hope to make a very long re- 
sistance." 

He thus reports the further progress of the siege: 

"October 12th, 7 p.m. Last night the enemy made 
their parallel at the distance of three hundred yards. 
We continue to lose men very fast. 

"October 15th. Last evening the enemy carried my 
two advanced redoubts by storm and during the night 
have included them in their second parallel. My situa- 
tion has become very critical. We dare not show a gun 
to their old batteries and 1 expect that their new ones 
will open to-morrow morning. . . . 

"A httle before day broke, on the evening of the 16th, 
I ordered a sortie of about 350 men under Lieut.-Col. 
Abercrombie to attack two batteries which appeared to 
be in the greatest forwardness and to spike the guns. . . . 

331 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

This action proved of little public advantage, for the 
cannon having been spiked in a hurry, were soon rendered 
fit for service again," 

He then relates in some detail his attempt to pass 
his army under cover of the night across the river to 
Gloucester Point and thus effect a retreat. But this 
plan failed, for, just as a greater part of the guards had 
been ferried over, 

"the weather, from being moderate and calm, changed to 
a most violent storm of wind and rain and drove all of the 
boats, some of which had troops on board, down the river." 

Thus his last hope vanished. 

"Our works in the meanwhile were going to ruin. We 
at that time could not fire a single gun, only one eight 
inch, and a little more than one hundred cohorn shells 
remained. ... I therefore proposed to capitulate." * 

Washington willingly acquiesced in Cornwallis's pro- 
posal, and commissioners were appointed to draw up 
terms of surrender — the Vicomte de Noailles and Colonel 
Laurens representing the allies; Colonel Dundas and 
Major Ross the British. They promptly met that same 
afternoon — the 17th of October — in a house known as 
the Moore House, that still stands down by the York 
River, about a mile and a half below Yorktown — a one- 
story dwelling, to which an inappropriate mansard roof 
has been added. 

* Cornwallis's despatches to Sir Henry Clinton. 
332 



ypmLIWW i it u . .«umt. 




«;2 



THROUGH VIRGINIA 

As you drive to it you pass the remains of the "two 
advanced redoubts" mentioned by CornwaHis in his 
despatch of October 15 — the Uttle forts that were car- 
ried in friendly rivalry by details from the aUied 
armies. The redoubt nearest the river was assigned to 




. <nAV\* 



The Moore House 



the American troops under Colonel Alexander Hamilton ; 
the other to French troops under the Baron de Yiomenil. 
The Americans carried their redoubt easily, after a 
brilliant charge that did not meet very serious opposition, 
but the French faced a more difficult problem, for the 
work they were to carry was the better fortified of the 
two. Its abatis and the palisades of its glacis held 
them in check so long that when they had cleared these 

335 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

obstructions they had already lost many men. But, un- 
daunted, they threw themselves into the ditch, scaled 
the parapet, and, leaping like tigers into the redoubt 
itself, succeeded in carrying it at the point of the bayonet. 
Washington cited both columns for bravery in general 
orders, and the French King restored to his regiment, 
known as le Gatinois, its old and honored name, "Royale 
Auvergne sans tache." 

Yorktown village of to-day conteiins some two or three 
score houses — a few less perhaps than it did at the time 
of the Revolution — a number of them being of the 
rustic type so often seen along English byways. The old 
brick custom-house still stands, while the most notable 
among its ancient residences is the handsome house that 
was built by "Scotch Tom" Nelson and that, at the 











Principal Street in Vorktoicn, Showing Monument 
Commemorating the Surrender 

336 



THROUGH VIRGINIA 




Governor Nelson s Home 



time of the siege, was the home of Thomas Nelson, then 
governor of Virginia and commander of the State mihtia. 
Wlien the American artillery began to bombard the 
town this stanch patriot signalled out his own house to 
the gunners as an excellent target for their aim. Its old 
brick walls still bear witness to the accuracy of their 
marksmanship. The box hedges of its garden have now 
grown so tall that one may stand within their shadow, 
and by its doorway there is a laurel-tree said to have 

337 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

been planted by Lafayette. When I last visited it the 
house was being carefully "restored" for a new owner — 
a gentleman from Illinois. 

I mm ediately after CornwaUis's surrender Congress 
resolved that a marble colmnn be erected at Yorktown. 
"ornamented with emblems of the aUiance between the 
Liiited States and his most Christian Majesty, and in- 
scribed with a succmct narrative of the sinreiider of Earl 
CornwaUis." It took just a centur>' to carrA this decree 
into effect, for the monmnent that now stands upon a hill 
beyond the town— a tall marble column topped with a 
figure of Peace — was not dedicated until the centennial 
celebration of the surrender. It has now become a well- 
known landmark, vIsUdIc far and wide, up and down the 
river. 

Beyond it. by following a road that passes remains of 
old intrenclunents — Unks between the first and second 
parallels — you reach a national cemetery, quiet and 
peaceful, the simple, numl^ered headstones of '"its silent 
army"' stretching in long perspectives under the dappled 
shadows of pine-trees. Near one of its walls, but just 
outside it. a plam obelisk, entangled in wild underbrush, 
marks the field whereon the British laid down their arms. 

The ceremony was an imposing one. and as you stand 
upon this historic field you can readily call it to mind. 

Along the right side of the Hampton road that crosses 
the little plain the American troops, nine thousand in 
number, were drawn up in fine, with General Washington 
upon his white horse at their head. Along the left side 

338 



THROUGH VIRGINIA 

were the seven thousand French troops under the com- 
mand of the Comte de Rochambeau. Each hne was 
about a mile in length. A great crowd, gathered from all 
the surrounding country, stood silently in the background 
expectantly awaiting the appearance of Cornwallis's 
soldiers. 

The British troops were then seen issuing from their 
trenches, their colors cased as stipulated in the terms 
of surrender, their drums beating a British march. A 
French chaplain, the Abbe Robin, tells us that 

"We were all surprised at the good condition of the 
English troops as well as their cleanliness of dress. To 
account for their good appearance, Cornwallis had opened 
all the stores (about to be surrendered) to the soldiers 
before the capitulation took place. Each had a complete 
new suit, but all their finery seemed to humble them the 
more, when contrasted with the miserable appearance of 
the Americans." 

All looked for Cornwallis, but in vain. In his place 
Major-General O'Hara rode up to General Washington 
and explained his commander's absence owing to an in- 
disposition. He was referred to General Lincoln, to whom 
he tendered CornwaUis's sword. Then twenty-eight 
British captains advanced, bearing the twenty-eight 
regimental standards. Opposite them, at six paces' dis- 
tance, stood a hke number of American sergeants. Ensign 
Wilson, the youngest commissioned officer in the Amer- 
ican army, had been appointed to conduct this cere- 
mony, and he ordered the British captains to advance 

339 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

two paces and deliver the flags to the sergeants. But the 
captains hesitated, unwilling to surrender their flags to 
non-commissioned officers. Colonel Hamilton, who was 
officer of the day, rode up, heard their grievance, and 
ordered each in turn to hand his furled banner to Ensign 
Wilson, who handed it to the designated sergeant. Fi- 
nally the soldiers marched up and laid down their arms, 
some throwing them angrily upon the ground as if to 
render them useless. 

Cornwallis's absence on this occasion has been much 
criticised. It can be condoned, however, when we think 
of all he had been through and when we consider this, 
his loyal tribute to his captors: 

"The treatment, in general, that we have received 
from the enemy since our surrender, has been perfectly 
good and proper; but the kindness and attention that 
has been shown us by the French officers in particular, 
their delicate sensibihty of our situation, their gener- 
ous and pressing offers of money, both public and private, 
to any amount, has really gone beyond what I can possi- 
bly describe, and will, I hope, make an impression on 
the breast of every British officer, whenever the fortune 
of war should put any of them in our power." 

The surrender at Yorktown virtually put an end to the 
war. There was desultory fighting long after it but no 
general engagements. Yet, it seems to me, our pilgrim- 
age would be incomplete without one or two more visits. 



340 



Ill 

HAMPTON ROADS 

FROM Yorktowii we went on to Old Point Comfort. 
Captain John Smith is said to have given the 
place its refreshing name upon his arrival after 
his long and tedious voyage, and it apphes just as well 
to-day as ever it did, for the big rambling hotel is a veri- 
table haven of refuge for the weary traveller, who, as he 
sits upon its broad verandas facing the wide waters of 
Hampton Roads, may dream, as he watches the leviathans 
of our modern navy in the offing, grim and gray, of days 
gone by when Howe's two hundred sail came standing in 
between the capes, transporting the British army on its 
way to Philadelphia. He may also, in imagination, be- 
hold de Grasse's gallant ships — the proudest fleet that, 
up to that time, had ever sailed American waters — come 
grandly into the Chesapeake to co-operate with Lafayette 
and cut Cornwallis from the sea. 

And, as he looks upon the surrounding shores, he may 
summon many other memories from the past. Up the 
James River, not far away, stand the ruins of James- 
town, so called by Captain John Smith in honor of his 
sovereign, while yonder capes that guard the entrance to 
the Roads were named for the royal princes Henry and 
Charles, and the nomenclature of all the adjacent coun- 
ties — to cite them at random — Princess Anne, Isle of 

341 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

Wight, Warwick, Sussex, Surrey, Prince George, King 
William, King and Queen, Gloucester, revives memories 
of the days of royal rule. 

Down toward the south, sheltered on the Elizabeth 
River, lies old Gosport Navy Yard, now become one of 
our most important naval stations. In busy Norfolk 
opposite stands St. Paul's, on the site of a "Chapel of 
Ease" built in 1641. The present "Rorough Church" is 
but a century younger and still bears embedded in its 
wall a cannon-ball fired from Lord Dunmore's ships 
when he, the last royal governor of the province, bom- 
barded the town in 1776. The noble overarching trees 
that shade this venerable church, its ivy-covered walls, 
its fountain, and the old headstones of its graveyard 
compose a veritable picture of rustic England and ar- 
rest every passer-by in Church Street. 

In Hampton still stands St. John's, with tombs about 
it that date back to the first years of the eighteenth 
century. As I was wandering among them one after- 
noon, reading the quaint epitaphs, an elderly man ap- 
proached and, pointing to one of them, asked: "Do 
you see anything peculiar about that inscription P" At 
first I could perceive nothing extraordinary in the simple 
statement, but, upon a second look, I noticed the date of 
death, November 31. 1770. "And a queer year it must 
have been," chuckled the gray old man, who turned out 
to be quite a character, a descendant of one of the com- 
mittee that purchased the land upon which the church 
was built in 1727. 

342 



THROUGH VIRGINIA 

At Fortress Monroe, in Trophy Circle, are gathered a 
number of captured cannon— one taken from Burgoyne 
at Saratoga; others from Cornwalhs at York town. The 
old fort itself, with its moated walls and deep embrasures, 
tells of a day also gone by, and recalls the epoch of another 
event that added historic lustre to Hampton Roads— 
the deadly duel between the Monitor and Merrimac. 

Even to-day these waters are making history, for when 
I was last there the Eitel Friedrich and the Appam— sea 
rover, captured prize, privateer— were lying in the harbor 
and the Deiitschland, first merchant submarine to cross 
the Atlantic, came in but a few weeks later; while the 
British cargo-boats, entering in ballast and departing 
laden above the water-fine, were aU painted battleship 
gray to elude the ever-watchful periscopes. 

Such are a few of the memories that linger round 
Hampton Roads. Reveille in the morning, taps at eve- 
ning, parades and guard-mount, with the military balls 
on Saturday nights, give to Old Point Comfort a martial 
atmosphere rarely found to-day in this our peace-loving 
nation. 

When our visit was ended we boarded one of the 
steamers that ply up Chesapeake Bay to Baltimore or 
Washington. Next morning, very early, I awoke just in 
time to see Mount Vernon perched high upon a bluff" 
above me, and presently our friends were greeting us in 
Washington. 



343 



MOUNT VERNON 



MOUNT VERNON 

HAVING followed, as F had svl otil, lo do, IIk^ 
priii(ii)al cariipai'fns of llic I'x'voliilioti and 
visited llie iiisLorie sites eoruieeted witli thern, 
T now was ready for my last pilgrimage — to the home of 
him who had f)resided over this great drama, its chief 
actor, the man by whose guiding hand the American 
armies had finally been led to victory. 

On the 4th of Dec^ember, 1783, Washington had bach; 
farewell to his odicers in the " l.ong Room" on the second 
floor of Fraunces' Tavern, that still stands at the corner 
of Broad and IVarl Streets in New York City (now r(!- 
stored and maintained by the Sons of the devolution), 
and had gone to the water-front, crossed in a barge to 
New Jersey, and i)roceeded to Armapolis, where h(^ n;- 
signed his corrmiission as commander-in-(;hief of \\u\ 
Ameri(;an army before; Congress there asseml)led. And 
by the following Christmas eve he had returned once 
more to his beloved Mount Vernon, a plain country 
gentleman, to take up his old life again. 

So my especial object in visiting his liorrH; upon the 
Potomac on this occasion — which was not my first visit, 
nor, \ hope, will it In; my last — was to pi('tur(! this Vir- 
ginia gentleman, this retired general, back in his peace- 
ful home during the years that followed tin; Mevolution. 

347 



• REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

We proposed to spend the day upon our trip. So in 
the morning, fairly early, with two congenial friends we 
started out from Washington, taking our luncheon with 
us in the motor. On the way we made a stop in Alex- 
andria to visit Christ Church, so intimately connected 
with his devotions. There is his pew; there the very 
conmiunion-table used in the services that he attended. 
Then, driving on again, we crossed the causeway over 
which he came to church and in the woods beyond, just 
before reaching Mount Vernon itself, we enjoyed our 
picnic lunch. 

The first view of the house that you obtain from this 
road is that of the less-known west front — the fagade that 
faces the park and greensward, a fair and simple design, 
full of dignity and quiet repose. 

I have never yet seen Mount Vernon but I have in- 
stinctively felt thankful that the "Father of his Country" 
should have bequeathed it such a heritage. For its effect 
upon the beholder is most agreeable, no matter what his 
standards may be. It is truly a gentleman's abode, 
neither too big and pompous for a republic's first citizen, 
nor yet so meek and lowly as to be unbefitting a nation's 
hero, a great leader of men. 

And its grounds are so beautiful — fair Virginia hill- 
slopes set out with stately trees and ornamental shrubs, 
with the Potomac encircling their bases in its wide em- 
brace. As I stepped upon the terrace that overlooks 
these lawns on a still gray day in May, the placid waters 
of the river were unruffled by any breeze and mirrored 

348 



MOUNT VERNON 

the white sails of a boat or two that lay becalmed upon 
them. Beyond, on the opposite shore, the Maryland hills 
rose green and misty, spotted with a dwelling here and 
there, but quite as Washington used to see them as he 
sat under his cool high portico. 




-'1 



']^^'^i 



Washington's Home at Mount Vernon 



There, in the shadow, I always like to sit and dream 
after the day's excursionists have departed by boat and 
train (and that is why I planned to come by motor), and, 
quite alone, to recall the memories of the house and its 
long-departed occupants. 

I hke to forget the hero, the Washington that we have 
seen crossing the Delaware, reining up his horse between 
the lines at Princeton, or praying in the snow at Valley 

349 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

Forge, and to remember only the simple country gentle- 
man, as he depicts himself in a letter written to Madame 
de Lafayette soon after the close of the war: 

"Freed from the clangor of arms and the bustle of a 
camp, from the cares of public employment and the re- 
sponsibility of office, I am now enjoying domestic ease 
under the shadow of my own vine and my own fig-tree; 
and in a small villa, with the implements of husbandry 
and lambkins around me, I expect to glide gently down 
the stream of life, till I am entombed in the mansion of 
my fathers. 

"Come, then, let me entreat you and call my cottage 
your own; for your doors do not open to you with more 
readiness than mine would. You will see the plain 
manner in which we live, and meet with rustic civility; 
and you shall taste the simplicity of rural life. It will 
diversify the scene, and may give you a higher relish for 
the gayeties of the court when you return to Versailles." 

This is the Washington of Mount Vernon, as he in- 
tended himself to be. But, of course, his dream of per- 
fect rural felicity could not come true. The glamour of 
his past achievements hung too close about him, and, as 
the spring advanced and the roads were freed from mud 
and snow, visitors began to arrive and invade his privacy: 
old soldiers, officers, members of the Congress, and friends, 
among whom was his dear Lafayette, come to remain 
with him for a fortnight in the little room up-stairs that 
still bears his name. 

After the summer had passed the great French sculptor, 
Houdon, arrived to model him for the legislature of Vir- 

350 



MOUNT VERNON 

ginia. he having consented to make the long voyage from 
Paris as much as a tribute to the hero as to fulfil this 
commission, for, as he said to Jefferson, who invited him: 
" It would be the glory of my life to be enabled to place 
my name upon the plinth of a statue representing that 
good and great man." And so he did inscribe himself 
upon the pedestal of the masterpiece that he created: 
"fait par Houdon, citoyen frangais, 1788." 

In his journal Washington thus notes Houdon's arrival 
and the sittings that followed: 

''Oct. 2nd, Sunday. — After we were in Bed (about 
eleven o'clock in the evening) Mr. Houdon, sent from 
Paris by Doct. Franklin & Mr. Jefferson to take my Bust 
in behalf of the State of Virginia, with three young men 
assistants, introduced by Mr. Perin, a French Gentle- 
man of Alexandria, — arrived here by water from the lat- 
ter place. . . . 

"7//i, Friday. — Sat to-day, as I did yesterday, to Mr. 
Houdon, for my Bust. 

"10//j, Monday. — Observed the process for preparing 
the Plaister of Paris & mixing of it according to Mr. 
Houdon. . . . 

"19th, Wednesday. — Mr, Houdon, having finished the 
business which brought him hither, went upon Monday 
(17th) with his People, work, and implements in my 
Barge to Alexandria to take Passage in the Stage for 
Philadelphia next morning." 

Thus we see that but two weeks were required to make 
the studies necessary to create the statue that now stands 
imder the dome of the State Capitol at Richmond— the 

351 



REVOLUTIONARY P I LCxR I M AGE 

finest presentment of our national hero that we possess 
and one of the masterpieces of modern portrait sculpture. 

It has the look, the size, and the serene spirit of the 
man whom "nature," as the Comte de Moustier expressed 
it in his account of the inauguration, "had distinguished 
from all others by his appearance. He had at once the 
soul, the look and the figure of a hero . . . and in his 
manners, he had the advantage of joining dignity to great 
simplicity." 

Houdon has succeeded in giving us this aspect of liim, 
depicting Washington in the uniform that is still to be 
seen in the National Museum in Washington — the coat 
with wide facings that he wore when he resigned his com- 
mission. His right hand, gloved, rests upon a walking- 
stick; his left arm upon a tall group of objects of sym- 
boUc meaning: a plough, fasces, his sword, and his cloak 
thrown over the whole. These are the only trace of 
symbolism. The remainder is frank portraiture without 
idealization of any kind, remarkably convincing and life- 
like in every detail. 

At Mount Vernon Washington, in his dress, threw 
aside even this much of the retired commander-in-chief, 
riding forth in the morning, after his breakfast of "In- 
dian cakes, honey and coffee," attired, as Mr. Custis 
describes him, "in plain drab clothes, a broad-brimmed 
white hat, a hickory switch in his hand and carrying an 
umbrella with a long staff, which is attached to his sad- 
dle bow." 

He personally managed his own large estate, putting 

352 



MOUNT VERNON 

into its supervision the same admirable attention to de- 
tail that he bestowed upon all his work. His home had 
run down greatly during his long absence at the war and 
he proceeded to repair it and build the additions made 
necessary by his broader Hfe. He endeavored also to 
retrieve his private fortune, so impaired by his service in 
the army, for which he would accept no pay. So these 
first few years of retirement became profitable as weU as 
pleasurable ones. 

His daily routine of life was most methodical. In the 
morning hours he visited his farms, talking to and over- 
seeing his negroes and inspecting his fine animals— his 
horses, cattle, sheep, and his splendid mules, sixteen 
hands high, bred from a union of his own coach mares 
with asses sent him by the King of Spain. He was very 
fond of his gardens and, from his diary, you may trace 
him to the Mill Swamp, the Dogue Creek, and other 
localities along the Potomac in quest of ash-trees, crab- 
apples, mulberries, white thorn, and other specimens to 
add to his arboretum. He even went farther afield and 
brought hemlocks from Occoquan and acorns and buck- 
eyes from the Monongaliela ; while Arthur Young, the 
agriculturist, sent him seeds from England and Thomas 
JefFerson shrubs from Monticello. 

The grounds at Mount Vernon contain many trees 
that he set out, and so I never enter the formal garden, 
with its old box hedges prim as a parterre de broderie, 
that I do not seem to see him walking in the pathways 
or talking interestedly to the gardeners. 

353 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

Before three o'clock he returned to the house for the 
quiet dinner in the small dining-room. This apartment, 
as well as the other rooms of the lower floor, still vividly 
recalls his home life. 

I can see him shut in his panelled library on rainy days, 
among his books and papers, using the very inkstand 
that is closed in one of the cases, or dictating to his sec- 
retary Mr. Tobias Lear. I can see him receiving visitors 
in the "west parlor' with its French furniture, corner 
mantel, and general air of ceremony. I can see him on 
occasions leading his guests to the "banquet-hall," where 
it was his custom, at these larger and more formal dinners, 
to seat his wife at the head of the table. If there were 
other ladies, these sat about her. His secretary was 
placed at the foot of the table to make himself agreeable 
to the lesser people near him. Washington seated him- 
self at the middle of the board with the more distinguished 
guests about him at either hand or directly opposite. 

"Nothing could exceed the order with which his table 
was served. Every servant knew what he was to do and 
did it in the most quiet and yet rapid manner." He him- 
self was frugal in his appetites, usually refusing the more 
elaborate dishes provided for his friends. He drank a 
"mug of small beer or cider" and a glass or two of fine 
old Madeira with his favorite toast, "To all our friends." 

In the evening, at candlelight, he read the news or hs- 
tened in the music-room to pretty Nelly Custis as she 
played the harpsichord that still stands by the door, or, 
at times, accompanied her upon the flute that lies upon it. 

354 



MOUNT VERNON 

The precious objects displayed in cases in all these 
rooms recall his tastes and associations as well as the 
homage of his distinguished friends. There are his dress 
swords; his walking-stick presented by his ally the King 
of France; a Sevres clock and rose-jars sent him by Lafay- 
ette, and another unique object from the same donor — 
the great iron key, token of despotism, about a span in 
length, that once locked the main portal of the Bastille. 
Lafayette accompanied this last gift with a letter that 
concluded as follows: 

"Permit me, my dear general, to present you with a 
picture of the Bastille, such as it was some days after 
I had ordered its demolition, with the main key of the 
fortress of despotism. It is a tribute which I owe as a 
son to an adopted father — as an aide-de-camp to my 
general — as a missionary of liberty to its patriarch." 

After six years of retirement at Mount Vernon Wash- 
ington's peaceful life was broken into and he was again 
suimnoned to serve his country and to become its first 
President. But, the eight years of his office ended, he 
returned again to his old home to resume his quiet life. 
He wrote at this time to his former secretary of war, 
James McHenry: 

"I might tell you that I begin my diurnal course with 
the sun; that, if my hirelings are not in their places at 
that time, I send them messages of sorrow for their in- 
disposition; that, having put these wheels in motion, I 
examine the state of things further; that the more they 

355 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

are probed, the deeper I find the wounds which my build- 
ings have sustained by an absence and neglect of eight 
years; that by the time I have accomplished these matters, 
breakfast (a little after seven o'clock) is ready; that this 
being over, I mount my horse and ride round my farms, 
which employ me until it is time to dress for dinner, at 
which I rarely miss seeing strange faces — come, they say, 
out of respect for me. Pray would not the word curiosity 
answer as well? ..." 

Washington soon tired of these strangers' visits, and 
invited his favorite nephew, Lawrence Lewis, to come to 
live with him at Mount Vernon "to ease me of the trouble 
of entertaining company, particularly of nights, as it is 
my inclination to retire (and, unless prevented by very 
particular company, I always do retire) either to bed or 
to my study, soon after candlelight." 

So a new member was introduced into the household 
and his coming brought a romance. Nelly Custis, now 
grown to womanhood, was the youth and gayety of the 
house and the ray of brightness in all its gatherings. 
Lawrence Lewis quickly fell in love with her, and Washing- 
ton was greatly pleased when he won his suit in spite of 
numerous rivals. 

The young people were married in the early days of 
1799, and remained on at Mount Vernon. The year 
passed happily until nearing its end. 

On the Ifth of December Washington noted in his 
diary that there "was a large circle around the moon." 
The next day, upon his morning ride, he was caught in 
the snow-storm that this circle presaged. He returned 

356 



MOUNT VERNON 

as usual in time for his three-o'clock dinner, but so late 
that, despite protests from his secretary, he sat down to 
the table in his damp clothes. 

The next day he complained of a sore throat. This 
grew worse on the day following, and, early on the morn- 
ing of the 14th, he 
awoke with a violent 
chill. Mrs. Washing- 
ton sent for Mr. Lear, 
his secretary, who 
tells us that when he 
reached the bedcham- 
ber he "found the 
general breathing 
with difficulty, and 
hardly able to utter a word intelligibly." Doctor Craik 
was hastily summoned, then Doctor Brown, and finally 
Doctor Dick. All realized the gravity of the illness. He 
sat up twice during the day, but experienced grieat diffi- 
culty in breathing. Toward evening he failed rapidly. 

Mr. Lear, the only eye-witness who has left an account 
of Washington's last moments, thus describes the final 
scene : 




Room in Which Washington Died 



"About ten minutes before he expired (which was be- 
tween ten and eleven o'clock) his breathing became easier. 
... I saw his countenance change. I spoke to Doctor 
Craik, who sat by the fire. He came to the bedside . . . 
and put his hands over his eyes, and he expired without a 



struggle or a sigh. 



357 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

"While we were fixed in silent grief, Mrs. Washington, 
who was sitting at the foot of the bed, asked with a firm 
and collected voice, 'Is he gone?' I could not speak, 
but held up my hand, as a signal that he was no more. 
"Tis well,' said she, in the same voice, 'I shall follow 
him; I have no more trials to pass through.' 

"At the time of his decease. Doctor Craik and myself 
were in the situation before mentioned. Mrs. Washing- 
ton was sitting near the foot of the bed. The general's 
servant, Christopher, who had been in the room and 
standing nearly all day, stood near the bedside. Caroline, 
Molly and Charlotte were in the room, standing near 
the door." 

Always, as I look through the door into that south 
bedroom, this is the picture that I see: the general lying 
upon the bed that still stands between the two windows; 
Martha Washington sitting in the chair near its foot; 
the doctor, Mr. Lear, and the old negro body-servant 
standing by the bed ; the three black housemaids huddled 
in a group near the door. After his death, as was the 
custom, this bedroom was closed, and Martha Washing- 
ton went to occupy the room above that bears her 
name. 

Washington's body was brought down-stairs and laid 
in the drawing-room, and later, when the time for the 
funeral approached, was placed under the great white 
portico that fronts the Potomac. The funeral was held 
on Wednesday, the 18th of December. I quote from an 
account, written in the taste of the time, in the Ulster 
County Gazette, published a few days later: 

358 



MOUNT VERNON 

"In the long and lofty Portico, where oft the Hero 
walked in all his glory, noiv lay the shrouded corpse. . . . 
On the ornament at the head of the coffin, was inscribed 
Surge ad Judicium— about the middle of the coffin 
GLORIA DEO — and on the silver plate, 

General 

George Washington 

Departed this life, on the 14th December 

1799, Mi. 68. 

"Retween three and four o'clock, the sound of artillery 
from a vessel in the river, firing minute guns, awoke 
afresh our solemn sorrow — the corps was moved — a band 
of music with mournful melody melted the soul in all 
the tenderness of woe. The procession was formed and 
moved on in the following order: 

Cavalry ] 

Infantry [> with arms reversed 
Guard J 

Music 
Clerg-y 

The general's horse with his saddle, 
holsters and pistols. 
Cols. j; Cols. 

Simms R Gilpin 

Ramsay ^ Marsteller 

Payne e Little 

Mourners 
Masonic Rrethren 
Citizens 

"When the procession had arrived at the bottom of 
the elevated lawn, on the banks of the Potomac, where the 

359 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

family vault is placed, the cavalry halted, the infantry 
marched toward the Mount and formed their lines . . . 
the funeral service was performed . . . and three dis- 
charges by the infantry, the cavalry and 11 pieces of 
artillery which lined the banks of the Potomac back of 
the Vault, paid the last tribute to the entombed Com- 
mander-in-Chief of the Armies of the United States and 
to the departed Hero." 

The vault here mentioned is the old one — the ancient 
family vault down toward the river. Washington's body 
lay within it for thirty years and then was moved to the 
newer vault, where it now reposes — the final resting-place, 
built according to his wish and in the spot that he had 
designated in a clause of his will. Now that it is shaded 
by trees and partially overgrown with vines, it is not as 
unsightly as once it was; for, both in material and design, 
it leaves much to be desired, but so hallowed are its mem- 
ories, so august the presence that one feels within, that 
all else is forgotten in the contemplation of the simple 
sarcophagus of the Father of his Country, the man who, 
by liis ability and courage, his uprightness and self-sacri- 
fice, won the admiration of the world. 



360 



WASHINGTON 



WASHINGTON 

ONLY a few miles from Mount Vernon now 
spreads the great "Federal City" that Wash- 
ington founded and that has become the living 
embodiment of his name — the monument he builded to 
himself without knowing it; the enduring evidence of his 
breadth of vision; of his power to see, in a wilderness 
dotted with the tepees of the Powhatan Indians, the fair 
city of his imagination. 

It is indeed difficult for the visitor of to-day to con- 
ceive that this splendid city was a pathless forest but a 
little more than a century ago and that a traveller* 
"after riding over an extensive tract of level country 
somewhat resembling an Enghsh heath" and traversing 
a forest "came out upon a large spot cleared of wood, in 
the center of which" he saw a building "commenced on 
an extensive scale" — the Capitol. 

Washington, from the very inception of the idea, in- 
sisted, despite the jealousies of the States, the intrigues 
of Congress, and the greed of landowners, upon carrying 
out his vast plan in its entirety and hewed from the for- 
ests along the Potomac, streets that "looked hke broad 
avenues in a park bounded on each side by thick woods, "f 
And that is why I think of our national capital, as we see 

* Thomas Twining, writing in 1796. t Francis Baily. 

363 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

it to-day-the most beautiful city in our country and the 
pride of the nation— as his memorial. 

He was aided, in the great task that Congress had laid 
upon him, by his secretary of state, Thomas Jefferson 
an ardent devotee of the arts and a student of arcliitec- 
ture, as the State Capitol at Richmond, the University of 
Virgima, and his own handsome home, Monticello all 
designed by him, still testify. A man of broad vision he 
caught at once Washington's great conception and even 
went so far as to draw a tentative plan of the proposed 
city that has been preserved and, in many respects re- 
sembles the one finally adopted. 

But these two executives had the foresight to choose an 
artist— a man of genius and imagination— Pierre Charles 
L'Enfant, to put their ideas into concrete form, and to 
tins man we owe the admirable plan of our national 
capital. Major L'Enfant was a Parisian, son of a 
"painter m ordinary to the King in his Manufacture of 
the Gobehns." Coming to America in the fall of 1777 
he enhsted as a volunteer in the American army and,' 
early m the following year, was made a captain of en- 
gmeers. He was six feet tall and possessed a finely pro- 
portioned figure, wliile his prominent nose betokened that 
obstinacy and "untoward disposition," as Washington 
expressed it, that was his final undoing. 

Engaged on pubhc work in New York City when he 
heard of the final decision of Congress regarding the new 
capital, he at once made application for the task of draw- 
ing up a suitable plan, for, says he: 

364 



WASHINGTON 

"No nation, perhaps, has ever before had the oppor- 
tunity offered them of dehberately deciding on the spot 
where their capital city should be fixed, or of combining 
every necessary consideration in the choice of situation, 
and although the means now within the power of the 
country are not such as to pursue the design to any great 
extent, it will be obvious that the plan should be drawn 
on such a scale as to leave room for the aggrandizement 
and embellishment which the increase of the wealth of 
the nation will permit it to pursue at any period, however 
remote. Viewing the matter in this hght, I am fully 
sensible of the extent of the undertaking and, under the 
hope of a continuance of the indulgence you have hitherto 
honored me with, I now presume to solicit the favor of 
being employed in this business." 

His offer of services was accepted, and after making a 
careful survey of the site, L'Enfant submitted his first 
report, selecting unerringly "the most desirable positions 
for to erect the Publique Edifices," and scorning the 
regulation squares — the block plan of Philadelphia (and 
would that other of our city planners had followed liis 
example !) as too tame and monotonous to suit his fer- 
vent fancy for, says he, with unquestionable truth: 

"It is not the regular assemblage of houses laid out in 
squares and forming streets all parallel and uniform that 
is so necessary. . . . Such plans indeed, however an- 
swerable they may appear on paper, or seducing as they 
may be on the first aspect to the eyes of some people 
. . . become at last tiresome and insipid, products of 
some cool imagination, wanting a sense of the grand and 

365 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

truly beautiful, [which is] only to be attained where na- 
ture contributes with art to diversify the objects." 

So, when he finally perfected his plan, he made 

"the distribution regular with streets at right angles, 
north-south and east-west, but afterwards I opened others 
on various directions as avenues to and from every 
principal place ... to serve as do main veins in the 
animal body to diffuse life through smaller vessels in 
quickening the active motion of the heart." 

Such were the practical ideas of the man who made 
Washington unique among our American cities, most of 
which lack these "main veins" that would be such an 
addition to their life. He plotted the great public l)uild- 
ings as we see them to-day: the Capitol on "Jenkin's 
Hill," "the presidial palace," as he called the White 
House near the "three grand Departments of State"; 
and a great equestrian figure of Washington (which it 
was hoped Houdon would execute) at the end of the Mall, 
where the obelisk now stands. 

But, like many a genius, he was erratic. His dreams 
went farther and he conceived a city in which the public 
edifices should first be erected and then the lots sold for 
residences to be built in conformity with these monu- 
ments, as in the Place Yendome or the Place de I'Etoile 
in Paris. It may be imagined how such ideas were re- 
ceived by the pioneers of that day — poor and battling 
with a wilderness. Troubles with the commission arose 

366 



WASHINGTON 

and developed into a deadly quarrel that finally ended in 
his being deprived of his work. 

Tlirough all his trials Washington remained his com- 
prehending friend, understanding and approving his 
dreams and his big ideas that were, indeed, too vast for 
his day. L'Enfant's later life became embittered and 




Tomb of Major L' Enfant at Arlington 



toward its close he lived as a dependent, with William 
Dudley Digges in Maryland, at whose house he died and 
was buried in the family plot. But in 1909 his remains 
were disinterred, conveyed under military escort to the 
rotunda of the Capitol, where they lay in state, and then 
taken for reburial to the National Cemetery at Arlington. 
There they now lie upon the spot perhaps where he 
and Washington often stood to talk over the fair city 

367 



REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 

of their dreams. For, from Major L'Enf ant's grave on 
Arlington Heights you obtain one of the finest views of 
Washington City, that spreads its vast parks, its shaded 
avenues, its noble distances along the Potomac, the pale 
shaft of the monument, simple, upright as the noble 
man it commemorates, rising quite near at hand, and 
the Capitol rearing its dome beyond "with majestic 
aspect over the Country . . . advantageously seen from 
twenty miles," as L'Enfant himself foresaw it would be. 

Down in the public buildings of the city are treasured 
some of the most precious relics of our national hero 
that we possess. In the National Museum is kept the 
uniform to which I have already alluded — the one he 
wore when he resigned his commission at Annapohs. 
Here are also his camp writing-desk; his shaving-case 
with the tarnished mirror that reflected his face each 
morning; his mess chest, but twenty-two inches long and 
fifteen wide, that contained all his cooking-apparatus; 
the pole, pegs, and part of the canvas of his campaign- 
tent. How simple all these objects are ! How little like 
the camp equipage of other great commanders ! 

In the library of the State Department, closed in a 
case, lies his sword of battle, heavier and less showy than 
those at Mount Vernon — its broad blade, shghtly curved, 
being made for action and not for ornament. The hilt is 
of ivory, of a pale-green color, wound round Avith silver 
wire, and between the guards there is an embossed trophy 
of arms. The blade is incased in a black leather scab- 
bard, engraved with the name of its maker — J. Railey, 

368 



WASHINGTON 

Fish Kill, which town was one of the principal depots of 
the American army. 

This war sword was one of the four that he bequeathed 
to his nephews, with the injunction that they should 
never "unsheath them for the purpose of shedding blood, 
except it be in self defence, or in the defence of their 
country and its rights ; and in the latter case to keep them 
unsheathed, and to prefer falling with them in their hands 
to the relinquishment thereof." 

This injunction was the spirit of the Revolution. And 
it should be our spirit to-day : never to be the aggressor, 
but to defend our country, our hberty, and our honor to 
the uttermost, and to have by us, "prepared," weapons 
in prime condition — an army and navy adequate to per- 
form this duty. 



369 



H107 75 



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